


For The First Time

by JJBashir



Series: The Aislinn MacMurdo Chronicles [1]
Category: seaQuest, seaQuest DSV
Genre: F/M, First Time, Song Lyrics, Tim O'Neill gets lucky, Tim O'Neill/OFC - Freeform, seaQuest DSV - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 14:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJBashir/pseuds/JJBashir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lt. (j.g.) Tim O'Neill is forced into taking shore leave and meets someone who ends up being pivotal in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ch. 1 – Shore Leave

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: The first part of this story takes place BEFORE Nathan Bridger assumed commanded of the seaQuest.

It was a long time since Timothy O'Neill, Lieutenant Junior Grade, Communications Officer of the seaQuest, had taken a good, long shore leave, one longer than three days. One where he relaxed and did things he liked to do. A month into his tour on the seaQuest, everyone he served with started to notice his increasing waspishness and absentmindedness. His claustrophobic attacks were returning with a vengeance. No-one wanted to be around him. Captain Marilyn Stark all but ordered O'Neill off her ship for a week's worth of his accumulated leave. It was for his and his crewmates own good. Either he was going to be on the edge of a nervous breakdown, or she was going to have to deal with a crew on the verge of shooting their communications office out of a torpedo tube.

Tim was stuck. He was sitting on his bunk, trying to rack his brains. Brains that were fried and overworked and he knew it. He wasn't up to a trip home. If Detroit was lousy in November, East Lansing was worse; cold, rainy, windy and depressing as all hell. He wasn't really interested in having his mom fuss over him and to have to tell stories about seaQuest to her friends. He didn't like overly warm weather, so a week at the confederations main base at Cape New Quest was out. And two days wasn't enough time to pull together accommodations for a trip to Paris to see a Gauguin exhibition he wanted to see for quite some time. 

At least, so he thought.

An old friend saved him from having to do much more thinking. Carl MacMurdo had been an exchange student to the University of Michigan in Tim's junior year. The good-natured Scotsman wasn't a half-bad basketball player and was a big fan of American football. He came over with a suitcase full of old classic novels, his Tom Brady jersey and an assignment to the single dorm room Tim O’Neill had been residing in. The quiet young man hadn't kept a room-mate the entire time he'd been attending college for a varied number of reasons. Carl blew into Tim's life on a rainy summer afternoon and Tim's life had changed drastically. He actually left his room once in a while. He'd even gone out on a date or two. By the end of the year, the two young men promised to stay in touch. Carl had attended Tim's graduation from Michigan, and Tim made his first trip to Edinburgh to see Carl receive his B.A. in linguistics from the University of Edinburgh. Over the next six years, between masters' programs and Tim's decision to join the Navy, the friendship only grew stronger. 

It just so happened that his friend couldn't come stateside. He was to be going away for the week Tim was on leave and had been going through his own dilemma of needing someone to house-sit his place in Scotland. Transport to Scotland was fairly easy to arrange and even though there probably wasn't much chance of heading into France for the day, it was at least quiet, out of the way and peaceful. The house was a small cottage style building several miles outside of the city of Edinburgh, and Tim had loved it the moment he set foot on the rocky ground of the most northern region of the Oceanic Confederation.

"The people here are pretty friendly, laddie," Carl had said. "But, I don't think you're one for hittin' the pubs all night, Tim." They shared a laugh. Tim's intolerance for alcohol was more famed than his claustrophobia. "Enjoy the view."

"Thanks, Carl," he said. The six room house overlooked the Firth of Forth and the crashing waves comforted Tim's ears. No matter how long he was on vacation, Tim was a sailor and the thought of being too far away from the call of the ocean depressed him even more than his enforced leave.

"Oh, by the way, me cousin may stop by for a few things," Carl said as he left. "Some books in Scots Gaelic...they're in the library."

"No problem, Carl. I'll give them to him--"

"Her--"

"OK--HER--when she gets here."

"Have a good week," Carl called from the front seat of his car. "Oi! Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Lose the uniform. Ye stick out like a banshee at a rave, daft Irishman."

Carl’s admonition and departure had been Sunday morning. By Tuesday afternoon, Tim was going just a bit stir crazy. Carl had taken his car and the local transports didn't run by this neck of the woods often. He spent Monday hiking over the moors. He’d slept in late, ‘late’ meaning 7 AM instead of his customary 6 AM. He was padding around in a pair of sweats and no shoes, sipping a cup of hot tea, reading Shakespeare with Kenny Loggins playing in the background on Tuesday afternoon when the doorbell rang. Tim hated the sound of the door bell. It sounded like a bunch of atonal gongs strung together. Which was exactly what it was. Carl called it 'spontaneous music'. Tim called it crap. Often. He sighed and headed to the door.

There was a woman standing there. Five feet seven inches of an extraordinarily beautiful brunette beauty in silver wire framed glasses and blue wool sweater and jeans. Her eyes were greener than spring grass. She had soft, pink lips and skin like a backlit alabaster vase. Little silver dolphins swam in hoops hanging off her ears and her mouth was twisted in a wry little grin that took Tim's breath away.

"Uh--um--hi?" he stammered. _That's really pathetic. A Communications officer that can't say two coherent words, he thought._

"Hi. You must be Tim O'Neill. Carl told me I'd find you here." Her voice was strange for the region. It was a neutral, protocol- perfect voice--standard for newscasters, deejays, and Communications officers with only slight hints of the Scottish burr she’d grew up speaking dashed in here and there with certain words.

Tim found it as beautiful as a Beethoven sonata at this point, he was craving conversation that much. "Oh. You must be his cousin--" He paused, waiting for her to insert her name.

"Aislinn. Aislinn MacMurdo," she said, holding out her hand.

_Perfect. Dream...it's Gaelic for 'dream.' Absolutely perfect._ "Nice to meet you," he said. And noticed for the first time in a few minutes his toes were freezing.

"We'd better get in, before yer toes get frostbitten," she said as she entered the cottage.

"Oh! Yeah! My feet," he said sheepishly. "Good thing I had the fireplace going," he added.

She looked at the happy bonfire going in the aforementioned fireplace. "Good thing Carl stocked lots o'wood last week," she said. "Not badly done--for a sailor, that is."

Carl had obviously been telling tales. Again. Should he have been surprised? Not even a little bit. "Do you have something against sailors?" he asked as they made their way into the living room.

Her cheerless grin was the answer. "Not really. I was married to one--a long time ago," she said.

"Oh. Sorry," he said. He snuck a peek at her left hand. He didn't see a ring, or even the hint of a tan line from a ring. A long time ago, she had said.

" 'Tis alright. He's dead, three years now." she said, looking around the room as if to reacquaint herself with it.

"Sorry," Tim said again because what did one say to a statement made with such finality? "I think Carl left your books in the library." The room designated as 'the library' was once a closet that Carl had taken the door off of. He collected old books, many of them old stories of the British Isles in Gaelic, Welsh, Irish and Old English. Tim had many good memories of raiding Carl's library over the years. He had practically taught himself Gaelic in that small room.

He noticed that she was carrying a bundle in her hands. She had unwrapped it to reveal the worn cover of one of Tim's favorite novels. "That's where it was!" he exclaimed, as the copy of Beowulf in Aislinn MacMurdo's hands came into view. "I thought he lost it, the dope!"

She smiled. "I see you found something else to occupy your time, Mr. O'Neill," she said, glancing at the copy of 'A Midsummer's Night Dream' still in his hand.

"Tim--ah, you can call me Tim," he said. His brain was flying for things to say, something else to do but stand there looking stupid. _Tea, offer her some--_ "Would you like some tea?" he turned thought into words. "I just made it--" He swept past her, into the kitchen.

"I can't, sorry." She managed not to grin as his face fell in disappointment. "I'm on my way to uni. I need these--" she said, picking out three books, "for a presentation." It wasn't because she didn't want to. Aislinn had spent very many wonderful times in this house. Carl was the closest in age to her in their not-very-large extended family, and they had made up games as children as they learned their languages. She'd enjoyed this place as a child, took refuge here as a woman in a bad marriage...and as a widow.

Carl had told Aislinn all about his former room-mate at the University of Michigan and absentminded Navy buddy, Tim. The language wizard. He, as always, failed to include the entire view of the man. He said he was a good bloke, smart, very funny, very Irish--for an American, that was.

Carl, of course, never bothered with proper details. Like how Tim's charm was based on his very boyish good looks, the good looks that he acted like he didn't have. How his eyes completely changed his face from boyish to devastatingly handsome, with an intelligence and sophistication that almost didn't belong there in seconds. As he stood standing there, with Shakespeare in one hand, silver wire rim glasses almost off his nose, sipping tea from the old earthenware mug she had given Carl when he was 10, and barefoot, Aislinn began feeling something she hadn't felt in a very long time.

Attraction.

"Oh," he said, not bothering to hide the chagrin in his face. _Good job, Tim. Now she thinks you're an idiot. She can't be younger than me, if she was married. And she's kind of old to be going to school._ "School for what?" he asked as he walked her to the door.

"Linguistics," she said. "I'm a Linguistics & Social Anthropology major at the University of Edinburgh."

"What year?" he asked her in the local tongue, Scots Gaelic.

"Final, it's a second degree. I have my MA in History," she replied in German. "I plan on joining the Navy after graduation," she added in flawless Greek. “Not the Royal Navy, though I could. No, I'm considering applying to this UEO thing. More of a chance to use my degree”

"Impressive," he answered in Serbian. "Communication, no doubt," he teased in French.

"Yes, but actually," she said in Japanese, "I'm interested in submarine duty. Sort of a family tradition."

"Really?" he answered in Swahili. "Any vessels in particular you're hoping to serve?"

"Why yes," in Gaelic. "One called seaQuest," she said in English. “She's the most advanced, and considering the role that she could be used for, my skills would be put to a constant test.”

Tim dropped his book.

She tilted her head. “Did I say something wrong?” she asked, more of her accent entering her voice. 

Tim shook his head. “No, no not at all. It's just...I serve on the seaQuest. Did Carl never tell you that?”

She laughed. "Carl? Part with details? Are ye mad? I think my cousin set us both up, Tim," she said, between laughs. "I've been talking about seaQuest for a little while now. I think he wants you to scare me off. Perhaps, I could stop by tomorrow, same time, yeah?" she asked. "I could make up for my cousin's stranding ye here with no company by grilling you about the United Earth Oceans and your boat."

Tim smiled. "I would LOVE that," he said. "I'll remember to wear shoes."

She smiled as she opened the door. "Dinnae bother," she said, letting her voice lapse into her full burr. "Ye have nice feet, Mr. O'Neill."

Every 'r' rolled like a kitten with a ball of string and Tim got alternately hot and cold all over. There was something so inherently--Gaelic--about her.

" 'Til tomorrow. Tim," she said, closing the door behind her.

Tim stared at the door for a long time. He heard the car drive away and he still couldn't move. Aislinn. He smiled as he tested the name in his head. Aislinn. Aisl? Linn? "Ays-slinn," he purred, letting her name roll off his tongue. "Dreamy. OW!" he yelped as he stubbed his toe on his dropped book.

 

Wednesday came, and Aislinn found the door unlocked and Tim in the living room, fire blazing on the hearth, reading Dylan Thomas and listening to Eric Clapton. She had brought some scones and ginger cake, he found some honey and butter in the fridge, and they had an impromptu tea on the living room floor, in front of the fire.

She couldn't remember when last she had such a good time. He kept switching which language he would answer her in, and never stayed there for longer than a few minutes. She liked his French best, and she noticed a pattern. Everything else she asked him, be it from life on the seaQuest to how he started palling around with Carl, he flitted from language to language like a will o'the wisp. Any question directly about Timothy O'Neill, his likes and dislikes, dreams, goal, and so on, were ALWAYS answered in French.

"Any girlfriends?" she asked at one point later on in the afternoon. The sun was hanging low in the sky, and she was throwing a few more logs on the fire to ward off the chill growing in the early winter air.

"No," he answered, his voice a little wistful. "No--time--, really. There's lots to do on the seaQuest."

Aislinn knew a bold face lie when she heard one, no matter what language it was phrased in. "No time? Or no inclination?" she asked. That would be perfect. The first man she was remotely attracted to in nearly three years, and he didn’t like girls. Brilliance.

Tim grinned sheepishly. "Well, none interested," he admitted. "Not really."

She turned, the light from the fire shooting auburn through her dark chestnut ponytail.

Tim thought his heart would stop. Dear Lord. She is so--oh man.

"No girls that are interested?" she said, turning back from the fire. "I find that very hard to believe," she said, taking a seat closer to Tim than when she had left. "A dashing gentleman like yourself should have all kinds of girls swooning at his feet," she added, though she was only half teasing him. Tim O'Neil was a very handsome man. At least, she thought so and that was all that really mattered at the moment, wasn't it.

_Dashing? No, she didn't--_ "Well, funny thing is," he said, returning to English. "I find myself fancying the company of a mature woman." He raised his eyebrows and his brown eyes twinkled roguishly. "Know any takers?"

Her eyes got wide and green and Tim knew either she was going to walk out, haul off and slug him--or, maybe, kiss him. _Yes. Kiss. Kiss her, you fool. Kiss her, Tim. Timothy, KISS. Kiss the girl. Kiss. Girl. Kiss-the-girl. Kiss the girl. Kiss her, Timmy, you jackass!_

She sat in stone cold amazement. His eyes got even darker and seemed to issue a challenge that made her head swim. _Kiss him, ye daft lass! Oh God, his lips just look like they were made to be kissed. Often. KISS him, Aislinn, ye stupid daft twit of a girl! Kiss. Him. Now. NOW, Aislinn. Now, now, nownownownow--_

They never did quite know how they managed to end up so close to each other that they could feel the air passing from the other's open lips. Tim leaned down and planted one, soft, mostly innocent kiss on those lips that had been driving him to distraction for nearly a day. He could swear he heard a loud 'cha-CHUNK' as his whole world did a linear shift toward the woman he was kissing.

She tasted like honey and smelled like a warm summer's day in Tiger Field back home. He unclipped her hair from the silver dolphin barrette she had it in and let it cascade down his fingers.

The kiss deepened as her lips opened more. Her hand caressed his face and traced his jaw gently, cupping it in her hand. He tasted like tea and ginger and sweet cream. He smelt like she always imagined the forests of America would: earthy and all of crushed needles under your feet as you walked through the pine trees.

Tim leaned forward and Aislinn went back willingly, letting his weight settle her into the deep plush rug they had been sitting on. Their lips were still joined and finally they both let themselves feel the passion they had been toying with for the last two hours. She wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer, and he traced her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue.

_**Whoa, son,**_ he heard in his head. _**You do realize you barely know this woman you're necking with on the floor like a teenager?**_

He wanted to scream. _This is a bad time he snapped at his Catholic conscious. I'm kind of busy here--_

_**I'm sure you'd like to GET busy, but hitting on widows, Timothy? That's reprehensible. ******_

_Shut up-- ___

___**You know, the last time I checked, our name was Tim O'Neill, not Don Juan. A girl in every port--is that our new game plan?** _ _ _

___Shut--up--_ He felt her tongue tentatively searching for his and he responded, trying to push the inner voice into hormonal submission._ _

___**And, what are you going to do at the end of the week? 'Well, hey, we had a great time, see ya?' It's not your style--** _ _ _

__"Umm-mhh, Ais--Linnie, wait. Wait," he gasped, ripping his mouth from hers._ _

__"What is it?" she said as he sat up. "Did I do something--" She was a bit disheveled. She was surprised at herself. Disappointed in herself that she’d let a strange man she barely knew kiss her, disappointed that the strange man she let kiss her stopped._ _

__"No," he said. "I did." Tim took her hand in his. "I shouldn't have kissed you like that," he explained as he looked down at the rug. “It was...forward. Way too forward. I'm sorry.”_ _

__Aislinn wavered between continued disappointment and some semblance of shame. _Sure, tell him you're a widow within the first sentence, and see what happens._ "Oh," she said in a tiny voice. "I see." When had she turned into such a hussy?_ _

__"It's not you," he said quickly. "It's me. I'm--oh man," he said. He ran his free hand through the unruly mop his hair had become. "I think I...I think I really like you, Aislinn," he said. "But I'm leaving in three days. And I don't think I can be a 'love 'em and leave 'em' sort of a guy." He smiled, feeling woefully inadequate. "I don't mean to hurt your feelings...."_ _

__Aislinn smiled, looking down at their joined hands. "I should be mad," she said, "I should be more furious at myself, at you but for some reason, this seems like--like it's supposed to happen." She looked up at him. "Does that sound strange?"_ _

__He smiled, relived that she wasn't going to kill him. "No. It doesn't." He chuckled and added as an afterthought, "It was a hell of a kiss, though."_ _

__She blushed. "I thought I forgot how."_ _

__"No. No, I think you remember just fine." He looked at her, and they laughed for a long time._ _

__They spent the next day together. They did not repeat the scene of their afternoon tea, but they did spend a lot of time learning about each other. She told him about her husband, Oliver, who had died on an underwater mining expedition. His death was the reason she decided to go back to school, to join the UEO Navy. He made copies of some of her extensive 1980's and 90's rock—especially Alanis Morissette and Everclear. They both liked the same kinds of music--she didn't even tease him when he started humming the opening overture to Bach's Magnificat when she walked into the kitchen behind him._ _

__"What's with the dolphins?" he asked her Thursday afternoon over lunch. She had her hair in its usual style, the silver dolphin clip shining in the light. Her earrings tinkled, and there was a tiny, stylized dolphin embroidered on the left pocket of her T-shirt that peeped out from under her cardigan sweater._ _

__"Remember I told you I used to hate the water?" she said._ _

__He nodded, remembering one of their many conversations._ _

__"Well, me grandfather--being a career Navy man, and all--he couldn't stand it. Every summer, he would take me and my family out on the boat for a few days during holiday. I was 10, he'd heard that a pod of humpbacks were passing by the Scottish coast. Well, he loaded us all in the boat--it was only a fifty footer, if that."_ _

__"The North Atlantic's not exactly the safest of places in a fifty footer," Tim noted._ _

__"Well, the whales were there, and despite the waves and all--"_ _

__"Wait," Tim interrupted. "Why exactly did you hate the ocean? We've been out on the ferry and you took me out that fifty footer yesterday--you don't get seasick--"_ _

__She grinned sheepishly. "I hated the noise of the waves. I always had really sensitive hearing. The waves make my head hurt."_ _

__"And you want to be a communications officer?" he snorted. She shot him a dirty look. "Tell the story, Linnie."_ _

__"Well, I was looking at the whales, and there was a pod of common dolphins there too," she said. "They have white streaks on their sides. There was this one, playing in the bow wake. I slipped under the railing to try and pet him--"_ _

__"And you fell in," Tim finished quietly._ _

__"And I fell in," she repeated. "Forty miles out with nothing but a thousand feet of water between me and the bottom, and I couldn't swim a lick."_ _

__Tim shuddered._ _

__"And then the damnedest thing happened. That dolphin in the bow wake? He swam under me and pushed me back up towards the surface. I grabbed his dorsal fin, and he swam me back to the boat. He waited there, the little bugger, until my father and grandfather could pull me back aboard. He kind of lifted himself out of the water, and clicked at me--like he was telling me to be more careful. Then he swam away." She sipped her tea. "Ever since then, I couldn't get enough of the sea. I think, in a strange way, that's why I want to go for sub duty. I want a chance to see more of the ocean--from the dolphin's perspective. Anyway, the dolphin's been my good luck symbol ever since."_ _

__Tim smiled. "Man, do I know somebody you should meet--"_ _

__She took him to Mass on Thursday night at the local Catholic Church. The gesture was even more special to Tim. He knew she was Anglican and even with the treaty uniting Ireland with Great Britain to form the Oceanic Confederation, the tensions between the Catholics and Protestants ran deep in this part of the world. He thought she looked beautiful, kneeling next to him, her long hair hanging loose down her back, her eyes closed in prayer. He took her hand in his for a moment, right before Homily. She looked up at him, and her smile was the most beautiful prayer he had ever known._ _

__Tim took her by the UEO Navy recruiting office the next day, to set a date for her to start the process of joining the UEO Navy and basic training. With her advanced studies, Tim thought that she should try and go through the Academy. "It might take an extra year or two, but you'd come in as an officer with a better shot at the seaQuest," he said._ _

__"I'm sick of school, Timothy," she said. Tim had begun to notice that her use of his full first name was often a sign of irritation._ _

__"It'll be worth it, trust me," he said. "Hell, if they could turn me into an officer, they can do anything. I just hope you like the water. A lot," he joked. She smacked the arm looped through her own as they walked through the streets of Edinburgh. He had his duffle bag with him. He'd received a call last night ordering him back to the seaQuest. She was walking him to the heliport by the university that would take him to London, and from there to the Canary Islands where he would meet up with seaQuest._ _

__He was dragging his feet on purpose, wanting the walk to take a long time. He didn't know why he was so sad. He had only known this wisp of a woman for four days, and he felt like he was leaving his best friend in the world behind. They finally reached the heliport, where he checked on his berth on the 'copter then turned back to his escort. She was trying hard not to cry. He could see it in her eyes and he felt it in his throat._ _

__"Hey, hey, no regrets, right?" Tim said. He wrapped his arms around her, and rocked her back and forth._ _

__"Not a one," she said, her voice thick with emotion._ _

__"Besides," he said more cheerfully than he felt, "we'll write--"_ _

__"Aye," her voice gone Scottish._ _

__"And knowing you, you'll be on seaQuest in a week after getting out of basic," he joked._ _

__"Aye," she said again, and took a deep breath. She wanted to inhale that woody scent she had classified in her mind as 'Tim'._ _

__"And," his voice catching, "we'll write...Won't we?" He was repeating himself. He couldn't think of anything better to say._ _

__"Aye," she said again, and squeezed him tighter._ _

__"Oy! O'Neill, move out," they heard in the distance._ _

__Aislinn looked up at him, her eyes spilling over with tears. She reached up by her jacket lapel and took off the silver dolphin pin that she had worn there since she was fifteen years old. She pinned it next to the seaQuest insignia on his jacket._ _

__"To remember me by," she said._ _

__Tim took her face in both his hands and kissed her, pouring as much emotion as he could into it. "Always," he whispered into her lips. He turned and ran across the tarmac to the copter. The blades began to whistle and roar._ _

__The last sight he caught of her was her dark hair whipping in the created wind, tears glistening on her cheeks, her face stoic and her green eyes following the ascent of the helicopter._ _

__The pilot of the chopper looked down. "That is one bonnie lass," he said to O'Neill._ _

__"Aye," he said. "Aye, that she is."_ _


	2. A Year Later: Training Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year after Tim and Aislinn meet, they are reunited in the one place Tim really didn't want.

It was a long shift. The French sub that had gone missing had finally been found safe and sound, and Lucas was home. Home. Tim chuckled to himself as he walked into the mess hall. As it did when he grew melancholy like this, his hand stole to his pocket. In it, the silver dolphin pin that a sweet bonnie Scottish lass had given him to remember her by sat and his thumb stroked it. Aislinn's rise though the Navy was meteoric. It wasn't difficult to get news on anyone of note coming through the training for the mostly new UEO Navy, and a former Olympian who spoke nearly nine languages was fairly noteworthy. Tim was waiting for the day that Bridger would tell him that he had found his new Communications Officer. He grinned. _Figures, he thought. She spends all her time trying to get here, and she inadvertently bumps me out._

"Hey, man," Lucas Wolenczak slid into the chair next to him. The bright, teenage computer whiz was close to Tim, and they usually had breakfast together. "You OK?"

"Yeah," Tim lied. "I'm fine." He stroked the pin in his pocket one last time.

"Mr. O'Neill." Captain Nathan Bridger walked up to his table. Both Lucas and Tim stood. "Sit, sit," he said. "Eat your breakfast. Mr. O'Neill, you know that often we have to deal with training younger officers."

"Yes, sir," he said. He wanted to groan. Training squids--new officers or non-coms were often nicked-named such because of their tendency of being eaten alive by the stringent training regiment--was NOT his idea of fun. They were cocky, full of too much attitude and not enough brains, and he hated it when they thought they were bucking for his job. Besides the inherent dangers of training female officers. Tim was woefully inadequate for that task, and had garnered a rep as a hard nosed, by the book, trainer. No personal interaction between him and his squids. Two months of by the numbers, on the fly Communications training.

Lucas winced. _If Tim wasn't in a bad enough mood today...._

"I think you'll be happy about this assignment, Mr. O'Neill," Bridger said. "We've been lucky enough to snag one of the best linguists straight out of Basic. She even managed to get a crack at, and pass, the officers' exam in less than four months of graduating Basic Training. Mr. O'Neill, I'd like you to meet Ensign--"

"AISLINN?" Tim was dumbstruck as she stepped from behind Bridger. _OH no. No way. I just couldn't be her training officer--that would just be too damned cruel._

"I was going to say MacMurdo, but I take it you know each other," he said.

Lucas was standing with his mouth open. _What--a--BABE!! O'NEILL knows a babe? Oh man! This is going to blow the pool wide open. Kreig's going to have kittens!_

"It's been a while," he said. He had only gotten her last letter a month ago. She didn't even hint that she was coming to the seaQuest. She hadn't changed at all. Her long hair, dark and glistening, was pulled back by that same dolphin clip he remembered. Her green eyes were bright, full of mischief. Her face was still the beautiful work of art that lulled Tim to sleep at night.

It never ceased to amaze her what the sight of his face could do to her. He always looked so earnest and sweet. His eyes were alternating colors again, from his everyday dark brown to something impossibly darker--more passionate. The eyes she kept seeing in her mind as she wrote letter after letter to him.

"You look well, Lieutenant O'Neill," she said, holding out her hand. _Not with Bridger here, I'm not throwing myself into his arms. You're an officer, lass. Act like one._

"So do you," he said, shaking her hand firmly. "Ensign. I told you to go through the Academy. I outrank you."

"I thought the two of you should meet first, get used to the fact that you're going to be joined at the hip for the next two months, but it looks like you beat me to the punch." Bridger always seemed to have to temper the blow of being assigned to O'Neill did to younger, less experienced officers. But, for the first time, he didn't anticipate the problems of past training missions. Not with that enthusiastic response from O'Neill. "Ensign MacMurdo, you begin your training tomorrow morning with Lt. O'Neill. I expect her to be versed in the basics on how we run Bridge duty by the time she gets there, Mr. O'Neill."

They both replied, "Aye, sir." He smiled at Lucas, patted him on the shoulder, and went to the table to pick up some breakfast.

Tim's head was swimming. "Why didn't you tell me?" he said, half angry.

"I didnae find out until a week ago," she protested.

"Don't use that accent to mess up my head," he growled. "You know it's impossible for me to be mad at you when you start rumbling like a Harley." Then he smiled and grabbed her hand. "I'm so glad to see you, Aislinn," he sighed.

She smiled back. "I missed you too, idiot," she chuckled.

Lucas coughed.

"Oops," Tim said, without a hint of remorse. He gave Lucas a hard look. "Don't you have something to do, Mr. Wolenczak?" he asked.

"What, you're not going to introduce me to your 'friend'?" he asked playfully.

"Aislinn, Lucas. Lucas, ENSIGN MacMurdo. Beat it."

She scolded Tim with a look. "Aislinn MacMurdo. I've heard a lot about you, Lucas."

Lucas shook her outstretched hand. "Well, if you heard it from O'Neill, it must be all bad," he joked. "It's usually one of his systems I'm screwing up."

"Lucas," Tim practically pleaded, "will you get lost? Please?"

"I'm eating," he said, buttering his toast.

"Do it somewhere else, Wolenczak," he said shortly.

"Tim," she said, and touched his hand. "There's no need to disturb old patterns to accommodate me. We'll have plenty of time to talk. I am going to be here for two months after all."

Lucas snorted. "You haven't heard about his training, have you, Ensign?"

She leveled that wry grin Tim remembered from their first meeting on Lucas as she deftly stole a piece of toast from Tim's plate. "Aye, I have," she drawled. "But, MacMurdos have a reputation of makin' the impossible possible, Mr. Wolenczak." She bit into 'her' toast, and chewed seriously. "An' I'm a MacMurdo to my wee toes."

Tim swallowed hard. He was in for a LONG two months.

 

The next morning found Tim at his station, glancing at his watch. He had told Ais--Ensign MacMurdo-- to be here at 09:30 precisely. It was 09:29:56.

She walked in one second later, her ever present ponytail sticking out of the back of a seaQuest hat. The blue jumpsuit uniform flowed over every single curve on her body. Tim didn't know what was going to kill him first--heart failure, oxygen deprivation, or Commander Ford, wondering why he was standing on the bridge with his mouth wide open.

"Ensign MacMurdo, right on time," he said. "Excellent." His voice was his everyday 'Communications Officer' voice. No emotion, no inflections. He was bound and determined to be his usual, hard-nosed self when it came to training this squid--

_Who you trying to kid? This is no squid--this is Aislinn you're talking about here. This is the woman whose letters you have tucked under your pillow--your PILLOW--like a schoolboy, for Pete's sake._

"Lieutenant?" she said, wondering where Tim was, with that look of wistful longing in his eyes. "Leftenant O'Neill, sir?" she said, slipping a hint of her burr in, using the British terminology for his rank to get his attention.

"Sorry about that, Ensign." The shock of hearing her call him 'Leftenant O'Neill, sir' woke him up. "The communications array of the seaQuest is one of the most advanced in the UEO--" he began.

 

Tim leaned against the bulkhead by his quarters. He was on his lunch break, meaning Aislinn was on her lunch break, but he wasn't hungry. At least he didn't want to eat any food, and he decided to retreat to his quarters for a nap. _Tim, you haven't taken a nap since you were six!_ he chided himself, but he was tired. She was a voracious learner. She seemed to learn through osmosis--she did everything he told her to, and did it right the first time. She'd gone further in four hours than most squids went in a month. He knew he was in for it when she had asked him a question about reconfiguring the communications array--in Hindi.

> _
> 
> "Excuse me," he had said.
> 
> She repeated her request, in the same unintelligible language.
> 
> "Ensign MacMurdo, I'm sure you think you're amusing, but I'd like to know what you're saying," he said shortly.
> 
> She blinked. "I'm sorry, sir," she said, her green eyes wide. "I was asking about reconfiguring the array in Hindi."
> 
> "Hindi?" he said.
> 
> "It's the last language I was studying at the university," she said. Her head was lowered and she was bright red. "I--I tend to think in whatever language I'm studying, so I start speaking in it unconsciously--"
> 
> "Well DON'T," he snapped. "The last thing we need is to start an international incident by telling some Vietnamese troller that his mother's ugly and wears army boots in Japanese!"
> 
> Ortiz snickered from his post at the WSKRS station.
> 
> Tim shot him a dirty look.
> 
> He stopped in mid snicker.
> 
> "Aye, sir," she said contritely, her blush traveling all the way down her face and neck. Tim didn't know what made him feel worse--the fact that he yelled at her or the fact that she really wasn't trying to show him up. It was just a continuation of the 'game' they played, answering each other in different languages.
> 
> _

He reached his quarters and immediately headed for the bed. He didn't bother with the lights. He wanted it dark. Ever since his crewmates had discovered his claustrophobia, he'd been assigned quarters with a porthole view. There was still several thousand feet of water over his head, but at least he could see the 'world' around him.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. He couldn't do this. He could not train Aislinn. If this was how he felt after one session, what was he going to do when she really screwed up and he was going to have to chew her out? Tim could be merciless, he knew that, the reason he got these assignments was because he was ruthless. He had already reduced one cringing ensign to tears on the Bridge when he nearly got the seaQuest blown up by misinterpreting a message from an unaligned confederation's sub. He would die before he could put Linn through that kind of--

 

The knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. "Come in?" he said.

The handle turned, and he saw the shape in his doorway. He reached over for his glasses.

"Ais--Ensign--hi," he sputtered.

She smiled wanly. "C'n I come in?" she asked.

"Sure." He was so stunned he completely forgot that as a non-commissioned officer, she was forbidden from being in his quarters.

She closed the door behind her, and sat next to him on the bed.

"I came to apologize. For this morning," she said. "I wasn't thinking. I was--I was trying to play our game," she admitted. "I forgot you don't know Hindi. I didn't mean to embarrass you, Tim."

Tim's heart wanted to break. "I've got to be a hard-nosed bastard on the bridge, Linn," he said. "It's my job."

"And I'm just a squid, I know, _I know_ ," she said.

He took one finger and brought it to her chin, lifting it to look at him. "You are not 'just a squid', Aislinn," he said. "You're my...friend. That's what makes this so hard."

"Tim, I don't want to make you uncomfortable," she said. "I'll ask Captain Bridger to send me to another ship--"

"No, you will not," he said. "I have to work through this, that's all. You deserve a chance to be on the seaQuest. You've earned it. I'm not going to take it away from you."

She laughed. "Och, Tim, I've missed ye," she rumbled, knowing what it would do to him.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "I missed you too," he whispered into her hat. Then he smiled. "No dolphins," he teased.

"Says who?" He pulled her hat off. Her ponytail was pulled back with an elastic barrette, the kind that little girls wore with little plastic balls on the end. These had plastic dolphins.

Tim laughed. "That's my girl."

"How about some lunch?" she queried.

He shook his head. "I'm not really hungry."

She gave him a playful tap on the shoulder. "Look, _eudail_ ," she said, using one of the many Scot Gaelic terms for 'love', "if you want to keep up with me, you've got to keep ye strength up."

"Keep up with you?" he snorted. "I eat squids like you for breakfast."

"Oh, is that so?" she drawled. "And here I thought you were a vegetarian."

"Every so often I backslide, have a Scotsman or two for lunch," he said archly. "Keeps the metabolism going." He pointed at the door. "13:50 on the Bridge, Mr. MacMurdo."

"MR. MacMurdo?" She put her hand and her hips.

"All my trainees are mister. It's easier to yell than ranks."

"Humph," she said, her ponytail flaring out as she spun. "Aye, sirrrr," she rolled.

"If it makes you feel better, you're the prettiest 'Mr.' on the seaQuest," he said brightly.

She turned her head over her shoulder to look at him and his heart nearly stopped. Now that his eyes were accustomed to the dim light, he could see her eyes, nearly as green as the water outside the ship. Her lips were wrapped in a smirk. Then she wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out.

"Oh, that was very ladylike," he scoffed. "Didn't the Admiral ever tell you it was the height of bad manners to do that?" The Admiral in questions was her grandfather, Angus, a legend in the Royal Navy and throughout the North Sea Confederation.

"Aye," she said. "That why I save it for special occasions." She stuck her tongue out again, and closed the door behind her. He could hear her silvery peals of laughter through the wall.

"Just you wait, MacMurdo," he muttered. Then he, too, chuckled.

 

The area around the moon pool was dark. She knew she had just enough time before her next duty shift started to finally see Darwin.

Even since she had heard of the seaQuest, she had wanted to meet Darwin. Darwin belonged (as much as a wild mammal could belong to a human) to Nathan Bridger, the captain of the seaQuest. A dolphin that willingly tagged along a high-tech sub because its captain had saved his life was unusual enough. A dolphin that spoke...in English, she had found out after she had nosed about a bit, with the aid of a computer and a program developed by Lucas Wolenczak, son of the famed scientist, that was beyond unusual and into the realm of remarkable. She wanted to see this marvel of nature for herself.

She let her hand rest in the cool water and splashed it gently.

A silver-grey head popped up. She took the yellow console next to the pool and looked for the 'on' switch. She found it and placed the console back down.

"Hello, pretty lady," Darwin said, the Vocorder translating his clicks and chirps.

Aislinn put a hand to her mouth, fighting back tears. It was probably the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. "Hello, pretty dolphin," she whispered back.

"Name is Darwin," he said, bobbing his head back and forth.

"I'm called Aislinn," she said, touching his long snout.

"Ays-slinn," she said, slowly pronouncing her name. "Dream Lady! Dream Lady!"

She was shocked. How could this dolphin, who had never heard any language spoken to it but English, she presumed, know the meaning of her name, one of the oldest in any form of Gaelic? "How--how did you know that?" she whispered.

"Tim teaches Darwin. Cairn is rock pile...bairn is baby...Aislinn is Dream Lady."

"Tim teaches Darwin, huh?" she said, a smile playing along her face. "What else did Tim teach Darwin?"

"That you would come soon, to play with Darwin. Play now, Dream Lady?"

She rubbed the dolphin's head, loving the feel of his slick skin against her hand. "Not today, Darwin, my love. Maybe another day, you and I will play."

"No! Play now!" He squirted her with water, then swam further into the pool. "Come and play, Dream Lady!"

She wiped her glasses clear of the water. "I wish I could. But I have to go to the bridge. Do you understand 'bridge'?"

"Yes," Darwin said sadly. "No play on Bridge. Bridger work. Lucas work. Tim work."

"Yes, my love, and I work on the Bridge. I have to go there now." He swam closer, so she could rub his head again. "But I promise to come and play the first chance I get. OK?"

"OK, Dreamy," he sang, and capered in the water.

Amazing, she thought. He took the translation that Tim gave him and shortened it into a nickname. There were notes she desperately wished she had paper to jot down, but she would have to commit it to memory. "Can you say 'Aislinn' for me, Darwin?" she asked.

"Yess," he said. "Like Dreamy better!" He tried to squirt her again, but she was out of reach.

"Stop that," she chided. "I'll see you soon, _eudail_. That means 'my love'."

"Dreamy. _Eudail_. Come soon and play."

"I will. Promise."

 

Tim had to swallow a wave of jealousy that rose in this throat every time Aislinn walked onto the bridge. Every male officer watched her from the moment her foot crossed over the line from the deck to the bridge, and they stayed on her for the entire length of her walk across the bridge to the communications conn. Ortiz, Krieg, Commander Ford...he'd even caught Captain Bridger sneaking glances at her as she made her way to the conn. He didn’t exactly blame them even if it burned him that they did. He forced himself NOT to look, but he was well aware of when, where and what she was doing. She didn't walk; she glided. If Darwin had legs, he would move like Aislinn did. He remembered how his heart pounded as he watched her walk across a room. And he knew that every man in the seaQuest wished they were where he was right now.

Because once she did hit the bridge, she made a bee line for one point. He knew her. She didn't glance to the left or the right. She would just waltz up to his side and say in her softest voice:

"Ensign MacMurdo, reporting for duty. Sir."

It had been that way for a week. It was driving him insane. She never wore any perfume on duty, but he smelled the lilacs that hung on her skin from her soap as it fought its way through the cotton of her uniform. She never wore any makeup on duty, yet her lips were always rose pink and glistening. She even took out her dolphin earrings, yet he could still see the flash of silver on her ears. Her silver wire framed glasses were her only adornment, and she looked like she was wearing a tiara of diamonds, not glasses.

But they were wet.

"Ensign," he asked, "Why are your glasses wet?"

"Sir. Darwin splashed them, sir." Answered like a true squid, she thought sourly. Since that one afternoon a week ago, she had not said one word outside of the bridge to Tim. She knew that his reputation as a harder than nails training officer was legendary and she was looking forward to surprising him, but she was lonely. He was living up to his reputation and she felt like just another squid for him to break. Literally. Her stay on the seaQuest was nothing like she had expected. And she realized that if she was going to get Tim to open up to her, she was going to have to level the playing ground.

"Darwin?" he asked. _Oh, heck, I never introduced her to Darwin! I promised I would._ "Who did the honors?" he asked.

"I did them myself. Sir," she said.

He looked took a good long look at her. There were dark circles under her eyes. She'd--she'd been crying? He could see--something...he wasn't sure what. _I have really been pushing her,_ he thought. "You look--tired--Ensign," he said. It was the first time he had ever commented on the appearance of one of his squids.

Commander Jonathan Ford, the seaQuest's First Officer, turned his head slightly toward the communications conn, straining to catch the subdued conversation. _I didn't just hear that, he thought. Tim? Worried about a squid?_

"It's nothing, sir," she said.

"Bull," he said. "Have a seat, Ensign." He motioned to the deck by the conn. It was higher than the rest of the Bridge, and gave a place to sit.

"Thank you sir," she said respectively.

"What did Darwin say to you?" he asked.

She blushed, a deep rose red that matched her uniform turtleneck. "He--he told me--" She bit her bottom lip, fighting the urge to tell him with her professional demeanor.

"He told you?"

"Sir--"

"What did he tell you?" Tim whispered dangerously. His eyes were glittering dangerously. It was tell him, or else.

"He told me you taught him what my name meant," she whispered. "Sir."

Tim swallowed. _Sweet Mother of God._ It had been one of his really bad days, the day he went swimming with Darwin in the pool...the day he had taught him what some words meant in Gaelic, just so he would have an excuse to say her name over and over. 'Dream lady', he had told the dolphin her name meant. _Recover, O'Neill--you're too quiet._ "Ah--that doesn't explain the wet glasses, Ensign," he pointed out.

"Darwin squirted me, sir," she said.

He fought the urge to laugh. The idea of Darwin squirting a stream of water onto Aislinn's face made him grin. "Well, Ensign, I suppose we should get to work," he said thoughtfully. "Or we'll just have to send you back early," he said. "You're progressing amazingly fast."

"Sir! Thank you, sir," she beamed. It was the first bit of praise she had heard from his lips in seven days, and suddenly her energy level skyrocketed.

Tim nodded, glad he had managed to bring a smile to her face. "OK, Ensign," he said seriously. "Let's work on emergency procedures today."

"Aye, sir."

 

Aislinn was whipped. She was always whipped after a duty shift, but today was worse than usual. She took off her glasses, pushed her bangs away from her forehead, then let her head rest on her arms. Tim was a great trainer. He pushed her. Hard. Harder than the Academy, harder than her last training officer, because he knew what she was capable of, and because this was the seaQuest, and that made him the best. She hoped that he was proud of her. Just a little.

But, Sweet Jesus, he was a bastard to her! He barely LOOKED at her, spoke in complete monotone, railed her if her appearance or demeanor was anything less than perfect. The exchange on the bridge this morning was the first of a personal nature they had since the day she went to his cabin to apologize. She was sick of it but they were professionals engaging in training. There wasn’t much she could do about it.

 

She looked around the mess hall. Commander Ford, Lt. Commander Hitchcock and Lt. Krieg were having lunch at a nearby table, and Captain Bridger had just gone over to find something to eat, after waving his crew back into their seats.

"Hey, Ensign," she heard over her shoulder. She looked up to see Lucas Wolenczak.

"Hi, Lucas," she said. They had exchanged hellos before this and she had chatted with him a little one day when she had gone to say hello to Darwin. He seemed fascinated by the fact that she had actually trained to be a language teacher, and she told him of her dream to someday create a universal translator. The idea was similar to Lucas' work with Darwin's VoCorder, except she wanted to translate different human languages simultaneously. That way, two people who spoke different languages didn't have to rely on interpreters, or learn a new language to speak together. She even was toying with the idea of having a translator to turn sign language into audible speech. Deaf people could simply sign, and the translator would link the signs into coherent speech.

"You look beat," he noted.

"Worse," she admitted. "I feel like me head's been turned inside out." She was too tired to even hide her accent.

"The Captain wanted to know if you'd like to have lunch with us," Lucas said.

"Really?" she asked, trying to straighten her hair a little.

"Yeah. I guess he wants to know how Tim's treating you," he joked.

She frowned. "Like an ogre. Just when I think I've managed to impress on him the fact that I'm slightly competent, he finds some NEW procedure to torment me with."

"Really?" she heard from above her. She bounced up to attention.

"Good afternoon, Captain Bridger, sir."

"Sit, sit, I don't bite, MacMurdo," he joked as he slid into a seat. Both Aislinn and Lucas sat. Lucas started eating his cheese sandwich while Bridger dug into his spaghetti. "You're not eating?" he asked. He noticed that she had been looking a bit pale the last two days. There was a definite hesitation in her usual elegant glide across the bridge this morning.

She grinned wanly. "I was tryin' to get enough steam up to grab something, sir," she sighed. "Didn't quite make it."

"I'll get it," Lucas said quickly. "What do you want?"

"Did they have any soup?"

"Cream of Broccoli," he said, making a face.

"Biggest bowl you can get me, lad. And a cup of tea, if ye don't mind."

He smiled. "No problem, Ensign." He moved over to the line of crew members getting lunch.

"Sweet kid," Bridger said.

"Aye," she agreed. "That he is, sir."

He looked at her strangely. "I don't remember you sounding quite so--Scottish--on the Bridge, Ensign." he teased.

"I'm too tired to try and tone it down any, sir. Och, Lucas, yer a saint," she sighed as Lucas placed a large steaming bowl of soup in front of her. She sniffed it dreamily. "Perfectly lovely," she said, and wrapped her hands around the mug of tea. She took a sip. "I feel moderately human again. Thank ye."

"My pleasure," he grinned. "Hey, what are friends for?"

"How're you holding up, Ensign?" Bridger asked.

"By divine intervention, sir," she said bitterly. "I think Lieutenant O'Neill's only purpose in life right now is to turn me into part of the deck." She took a spoonful of soup. "It's working."

"He tells me you’re the best officer he's ever had the pleasure to train," said Bridger.

She looked up. "Surely yer jokin', sir?" she said. "He barely manages to say ‘good morning', much less 'good job'."

Bridger sipped at his soda. "O'Neill tends to be a little insecure--he hides it by being a hard-nosed s.o.b. on the Bridge," he said. "He's really a big puppy dog."

"Aye, sir," she said. "I know."

Lucas and Bridger looked at each other.

"He tells me he can't keep up with you, Ensign MacMurdo," Bridger continued. "He sings your praises like a canary."

"He sits up late, trying to find new ways to stump you," Lucas added. "Like those emergency procedures he had you running today--"

"Och!" she sighed. "Begging the captain's pardon, but that was the biggest load of palaver I've ever heard. Notify each and every confederation within a sixty mile radius of an 'abandon ship' call--"

"You liked that?" Lucas said eagerly. "I KNEW that was going to drive you crazy."

She looked at Lucas. His statement sunk in, and she felt like she had been punched in the gut. Oh no. He couldn't have....he wouldn't stoop that low....

Bridger laughed. "Lucas and Tim were up most of last night cooking up that 'palaver' as you so eloquently put it." Bridger chuckled. "I thought you were finally going to choke O'Neill by the time you finished."

"Sir, do you meant to tell me that entire exercise--"

"It doesn't exist, Ensign."

She wanted to cry. _Now he's making me look like a complete jackass in front of the ENTIRE Bridge crew? Och, what the hell did I do to deserve this?_

"Don't get upset, Aislinn," Bridger said, laying a hand on her arm. "The fact that O'Neill has to make stuff up to keep you occupied is a credit to your own skill and talent. That's why we feel that the rest of your 'training' would be better enhanced by giving you a little project."

"A project, sir?" Suddenly famished, she began eating her soup.

"You know about Lucas' breakthrough with Darwin?" he asked.

She nodded between sips of soup and tea.

"How would you like to help him to refine the software that runs Darwin's VoCorder?" he asked.

Aislinn nearly choked on her mouthful of soup.

"I told the Captain about some of your ideas," Lucas said eagerly. "Lt. O'Neill said he already knew about them."

"Aye," she said. "He helped me do some of the research for my 'Practical Linguistics' thesis when I was in the University of Edinburgh."

"He got me a copy of it," Bridger said. "It was what convinced me to get you aboard seaQuest to begin with. I think that, with Lucas' help, you can make your dream possible."

She sat there with her mouth hanging open. "Sir?"

"How would you like to make the seaQuest your permanent posting, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"Sir?" She hated to sound like a buffering video just to state the obvious, "I'm only an Ensign, sir."

"The offer comes with a promotion to Lieutenant, Junior Grade," he said. "You'd be sharing communication conn duties with Lt. O'Neill, but your primary job would be research into Darwin's 'speech', and how to enhance it, as well as your own research." He finished his drink. "Whattya say, MacMurdo?" he asked.

She took a deep breath. The seaQuest--the posting that even the top cadet in the last Academy class couldn't get. The chance to work with Darwin, and Dr. Kristin Westpahlen...and Tim. She would see him every day.

If she wanted to.

If she could stand it.

 

Tim was lying on his bed. He'd been taking naps after his duty shift for the past week. He couldn't take the pressure of it anymore. The phony emergency procedures drill was the last straw for him. There was absolutely nothing else he could to that would shake her cool reserve, that would make her blink. Aislinn MacMurdo was beyond good--she was a phenomenon. And Bridger was going to give her his job.

Bridger had asked for her evaluation already. He had asked for Aislinn's Master's thesis on a universal translator. And what made it worse was that, with one exception, he'd been downright rotten to her all week. All the times he had wanted to touch her shoulder, reassure her when she made a minor mistake, talk over any questions she had, in whatever language she wanted--and all he had done was 'Ensign MacMurdo' her to death. If she hated him forever, he wouldn't blame her. All the things they had shared over the year they had written--he'd thrown it away. He had finally convinced himself to drift into sleep, the silver dolphin pin clutched tightly in his hand.

 

BANGBANGBANG!! BANGBANGBANG!! "Timothy? Tim O' Neill, open this door!"

"Hmm--wha--fiv' m'r minutes, Ma," he mumbled at the sound of knocking.

BANGBANGBANG. "Timothy Andrew O'Neill, open this door this very instant! Do ye hear me? I said, OPEN THIS BLOODY DOORR RRIGHT NOW!"

Tim sat up. Only one person could make the letter 'r' into its own living entity. He flew across the cabin and flung the door open.

To say she was upset was an understatement. Her green eyes were nearly fluorescent, her glasses were slightly askew, and there were little stray wisps of hair poking from under her hat. The knuckles on one hand were white. The others were red from pounding on the door.

 

He stood in the doorway, half blind, stunned.

 

She pushed him back far enough to enter the room, then slammed the door shut with her foot without even looking back at it.

"How-DARE-ye?" she snarled. "How dare ye make me look like a complete IDIOT!?"

"Linn," he sputtered holding out his hands in keep a decent distance between them.

"Linn? NOW, it's Linn? Ye've been sorer th'n a bear with a bee in its bonnet, and NOW, I'm Linn?" She advanced. "Either yer completely lost ye mind, or I'm the sorriest lass that ever lived, for thinkin' ye eva cared one WHIT for me!"

"I--I--"

"Well?" She stood in front of him, one foot tapping the floor in a staccato beat.

"I'm--sorry?" he squeaked.

"I'm sorry?" she repeated incredulously. "I'm SORRY? **I'M SORRY!?** "

_Oh, man, here we go again._ "Aislinn, what was I supposed to do--"

"A 'good morning' would have been nice, Timothy. Maybe 'good evening'. Cor, 'hello' would have been stellar compared to 'Very good, Ensign MacMurdo.' 'Very PUNCTUAL, Ensign MacMurdo.' 'Try better next time, MR. MacMurdo'." She finally strode forward enough to poke him in the chest. "If I ever, ever EVER hear you call me 'Ensign MacMurdo' again, I think I will scream. Right there. In front of EVERYONE. And for another thing--"

"That's it!" Tim exploded. "There is no way I'm going to stand here and let you berate me for doing my job, ENSIGN MacMurdo! I'm your training officer, and I have a responsibility to this ship and the UEO to see that you are trained to the best of your ability!"

"The best of MY ability!? And that's why you MADE up training exercises for me to fool with, while you and the rest of the Bridge crew had a good giggle at MY expense?"

"And how the hell else was I going to keep you here, goddammit?!" he exploded. "You're wonderful! OK? Is that what you want to hear? That you're the best communications officer in the UEO? There. I said it. That you can do MY job in YOUR sleep? I said that, too. The next time were in port, I'm gonna have to go to confession for cursing AND taking the Lord's name in vain, I'm exhausted from trying to keep up with you and I feel like absolute hell, 'cause I wanted to do all week was hug you and tell you how damned proud I am of you for making it here! And while we're at it...." He dug around in his pocket and pulled out the dolphin that had been there for a year. "Here's your pin. I'm sure you want it back, considering you never want to see me ever again, and I don't blame you, so here take it, have a nice life. I guess I should start packing." He turned quickly, so she wouldn't see the tears in his eyes.

It was her turn to stand in stunned silence. She stared at the pin in her hand. Some of the detailed etching had worn down. Like it had been caressed and touched. A lot. He had pulled it out of his pocket. _He's carried this since I gave it to him?_

"Um, Tim?"

"What?" he said flatly, he back still turned.

"Captain Bridger offered me a position--"

"Yeah, I know. MINE. That's why I should--"

"No. As a researcher. To work with Lucas. And Darwin and the VoCorder. And my thesis."

He turned to face her.

"I'd be sharing your position with ye, but you're still the communications officer. He said there was no way he'd replace you."

"Really?" Tim's voice had softened a bit. He turned to look at her.

She nodded. "I--I don't hate ye, Timothy," she said, laying her hand on his shoulder. "I--I've just felt--neglected. That's all."

Tim quickly turned and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry," he whispered, pulling her hat off her head and feeling her silky hair beneath his cheek. He pulled the ponytail holder out, and let her brown hair fall loose. He ran his fingers through it gently. "I--I've been a jerk to you, because I felt threatened. I should have just been myself, and not 'Lieutenant O'Neill'."

She so wanted to stay mad at him. He HAD been a jerk--a big, huge jerk. But he was holding her right now. And whispering apologies in Gaelic. And stroking her hair. And this was the way she had dreamed about things being between them. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him closer. "Och, Timothy," she sighed. "Why can't I stay mad at ye for more than a minute at a time?"

She smiled into her hair. "I know I haven't been easy on you," he whispered. "But I'll make it up to you. I promise."

She smiled, both for the apology, and the fact that it was uttered in French.

"I'll hold ye to that, Mr. O'Neill," she murmured back.

"Just hold me right now, OK?" he said in English. "That's all I want."

She pulled him to her as tight as she could. "Aye, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There have been over the years many complaints about how much of Aislinn's accept is spelt out, including cracks on her being 'Scottish by way of RADA (the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts). The character in my own mind has always sounded very much like an old English professor of mine who had an extremely pronounced Scottish accent, even after being in the US for almost 30 years. In this re-edit, I have tried to remove many of those spelling--but a fair amount remain, because they very much make her who she is. She makes deliberate shifts in her voice as she takes the coon and is on duty and the spellings (I hoped) reflect her shift in personality.


	3. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Routines are started and Linn takes on her first mission as a member of seaQuest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General Guzmano first appears in the season 1 episode 'The Good Death'. The idea of retrofitting the Stinger with a sonic emitters comes from the episode 'Stinger'.

Tim gave in to his curiosity and watched Aislinn walk across the bridge for the first time since she came aboard. _How on earth does she MOVE like that?_

He watched Ford and Kreig and Bridger watch her. Ben Kreig was in love--at the least, severe lust. He leering like a schoolboy peeking at a hole drilled through to the girls' locker room. Nathan Bridger had a knowing smile on his face, a 'if I were twenty years younger' look. But Ford--the sight of Commander Jonathan Ford standing in the middle of the bridge of the seaQuest with a goofy, schoolboy grin on his face while watching Aislinn walk...it was something Tim would never forget. Or something he would ever let FORD forget.

And then he saw her eyes light up, as she realized that HE was watching her. Their eyes locked, and she smiled that demure little grin that drove him crazy. She glided her way to his side, her eyes never leaving his.

 

"Ensign--"

"Hello will do just fine," he said teasingly. "Wouldn't want to make you scream, now would I?"He looked down, then back up at her. "Lieutenant?" It was more than teasing. How she answered would tell him if she was staying on the seaQuest, or leaving. Tim was more than a little scared of either option.

She crossed her arms, smirking. "Just remember we share the same rank now. Lieutenant," she said.

His heart jumped. "I still outrank you," he said. "I've been here longer."

She leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Not for nothin', _eudail_ , but who had to make up stuff to keep up with whom, again?" She withdrew. "Lieutenant Aislinn MacMurdo, reporting for duty, sir," she said crisply. She saw Lucas give her a big thumbs up out of the corner of her eye.

Tim stood up, and stretched his hand towards the chair. "Let's see how much you've really learned, Mr. MacMurdo," he said quietly. Then he said a bit louder. "Mr. MacMurdo...the conn is yours."

"Sir?"

He gently guided her into the still warm chair, and put the headset on her head. "She's yours. For the whole shift. I'm just gonna stand here and watch." He leaned over and brushed her ear with his lips as he whispered, "If you think you can handle it, of course." He backed up a bit as she turned to face him.

"Just watch me. MR. O'Neill."

 

The shift was quiet. There was only one time when Aislinn had to look to Tim for help, when Bridger had asked her to do a routine diagnostic, and she forgot the sequence to flip the switches. She was sweating bullets, because she knew Bridger was watching her like a hawk. But she was happy, because this was the way it should have been. Her and Tim as a team...two parts of the same unit.

Suddenly, Ortiz said, "Captain, WSKRS 3 is picking up--something...I don't know what."

At the same time, Aislinn looked up at Bridger. "Sir, I've got an audio signal coming in. Very faint."

O'Neill looked at Bridger. A nod of the head, and he would pull her off the conn, and take over. Bridger shook his head slightly. _Let her stay, it said. Let her ride it out._ Tim nodded, then put his hand on her shoulder, and when she looked up, nodded again, an unspoken signal for her to stay where she was. A slight turn of the lips, a single, acknowledging nod.

"Can either of you get me a position?" Bridger asked.

Ortiz punched some buttons. Aislinn simply cocked her head to one side. "The signal's stronger sir," she said first. "It's a distress signal. Portuguese. 15 degrees to port amidships...approximately two miles, one hundred and fifty feet beneath us."

Bridger looked at Ortiz. He searched his screen. "WSKRS 2 confirms--I've got a visual--looks like an old Romeo class sub, bearing--fifteen degrees to port amidships. Two miles and closing. Depth, twenty-two-oh-four."

"One hundred and fifty feet below our current position," Ford said, awestruck.

"VERY good, MacMurdo," Bridger said.

O'Neill beamed. "Good girl," he whispered. Her ultra-sensitive hearing never ceased to amaze him.

She looked up at him, and pointed to the spare headset. He nodded and put it on. "What's up?"

She shook her head. "I don't know yet. Listen to this."

He listened to the call for help. It was frantic--a very artful attempt to be frantic. "What's that click?" he asked.

"Cut-off," she said. "It's on a loop. I'd bet it's a recording"

He looked at her. "A repeating distress signal? That's strange."

She listened closely. "It certainly is," she said. "Damn, what IS that?" she said crossly.

Ortiz reported, "I've got visual on markings, sir. She's Amazonian."

"Oh boy," Tim said. seaQuest had already had dealings with the Amazonian Confederation, and Tim was sure the crew of the seaQuest didn't want an excuse to renew ties.

"Can't you hear that?" Aislinn was asking him.

"Hear what? Your ears are better than mine." He turned back to the signal.

"That oscillation. It's much more subtle than the loop." She boosted the signal slightly and filtered out some of the audio feed. "There. Hear it?"

"Yeah. What the hell is that doing there?" he wondered. "The tape player?"

"No," she said. "The recording is too clean. It's probably a digital." She thought for a moment. "Captain Bridger!" she called out.

He was at the communications conn in seconds. "What have you got for me, MacMurdo?"

"An echo. Listen." She placed the signal onto the main bridge speakers. "That oscillation that's been nagging me? It's an echo. That distress signal isn't coming from the Romeo. The oscillation is the signal bouncing back and forth between the Romeo and its true source."

"Can you isolate it?" he asked.

"Get me closer, and we'll find out," she said.

"Ortiz! Position!"

"Two thousand feet and closing, Captain."

"Exactly how close do you want to get?" Tim asked nervously.

"As close as we can, Lieutenant," she said, her fingers flying across the keyboard, flipping switches and turning knobs.

"I was afraid of that," he muttered.

"Initiating filtering systems," she said. "When the waving stops, I've got the true signal. Lucas!" she called out.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute! I'm losing it!" O'Neill called out.

"Shan, back us up a few hundred feet," Bridger commanded.

"Aye, sir."

The signal got clearer and clearer, until it was at its original strength.

"Position, Ortiz."

"Two thousand out and steady, sir."

The teen appeared, seemingly out of thin air. "Yeah, Mac?" he asked.

"Get me a Vocorder, Luke, and patch me into Darwin."

"Now wait a minute!" Bridger said. "I don't want you risking Darwin when we have WSKRS out in the--"

"I have a feelin', sir, that we're not going to have them for long."

Tim turned his head. "I've got a lock on the signal, sir."

"WSKR 3's signal just went out, sir!"

"Give me a position on its last transmission, Ortiz!" Bridger snapped.

"Fourteen hundred feet out, sir," he said. "It was heading for the port side of the Romeo."

"The side we can't see, sir," Aislinn noted.

"The side that signal's got to be coming from," Tim noted.

Bridger paused for a moment. "OK. But don't get my dolphin killed. OK?"

She smiled. "Aye, sir." Lucas was at the pool located in the middle of the bridge. Aislinn went over and stroked Darwin's head. "Darwin, me love, I need a favor."

"Darwin loves Dreamy. What is favor?"

Tim chuckled. She had managed to charm Darwin as completely as she had him.

"The big sub. Do you know what a WSKR is, Darwin?"

"Yes," he said. "Eyes and ears for seaQuest--"

" A WSKR went behind the big sub. The WSKR was telling us what was happening when it went behind it. Now it's quiet. Darwin, can you find the WSKR?"

"Darwin will find!" He nodded his head up and down.

"Good boy. Go!" She waved her hand out, and Darwin took off like a shot.

"Shan, back us up a bit."

"Aye, sir."

"We've been too quiet," Tim noted.

"So? Fix it, Mr. O'Neill. That's why we pay you," Bridger said.

"Unidentified sub, this is the UEO vessel seaQuest. We copy your distress signal, and are en route to assist," he said in Portuguese.

The message kept repeating. "No response, sir."

"Keep hailing them. I think your compatriot here has an idea what we're going to find. Take us to amber, Mr. O'Neill"

"Aye, sir," he said. "Sounding amber alert."

"OK, Miss Smarty-pants, what's Darwin going to find behind that Romeo?" Bridger asked.

She smiled. "Why, a mini-sub, of course," she said.

"Stop that," Bridger admonished. "A mini-sub?"

"From what I read about your last encounter with the Amazonian Confederation, I'm sure they're dying to take a poke at the seaQuest again," she said. "Covert Operations-430," she clarified. "It’s also become something of a trend. Some of the more rogue confederations trapping ships by using phony distress calls. It’s a high-end form of piracy."

"Oh," Bridger said. "What makes you so sure--"

"Aislinn!" She recognized the voice. She sprinted over to the pool. "Hello, pretty dolphin," she said, rubbing his nose.

"Darwin finds little sub hiding. Hides behind big sub. WSKR floats, lights flash."

The look on her face was beatific.

"They must be jamming the WSKR signal," Tim said. "I'm on it."

"Shan, back us the hell up!" Bridger shot.

"Aye, sir."

"Ortiz, position!"

"We're at five thousand feet out. Holding steady, sir!"

"OK. We know they're out there? What are we going to do about it?" Bridger asked his crew. He looked rather pointedly at Aislinn.

"I get paid to be a set of ears, sir," she said, "not figure strategy."

He looked at her more directly.

She chewed on her bottom lip. "O'Neill, you've got a lock on that signal?"

"Yeah," he said. "What do you what me to do with it?"

She chewed her bottom lip harder.

He reached out and gently pulled her lip from between her teeth with his thumb. "You're gonna bite right through your lip, if you keep that up."

Back went the lip. "I'm thinking, Timothy."

He pulled it out again. "Yeah, but your Portuguese is going to sound damned funny through a fat lip. Stop."

"Do you two mind?" Bridger said. "I'm trying to keep my boat from getting blown up here."

"Turnabout's fair game?" she suggested.

He shrugged. "Sounds like a plan." He didn't even need to ask her what she meant. He just started typing rapidly, spoke into his headset mike, then hit a button. Over the loudspeaker, the crew heard O'Neill's voice, in Portuguese, repeating the reply message. Then he switched it over to the link out to the Romeo.

"Good," Linn said. "Let them puzzle over that for a while. Nice call, Tim."

Tim smiled. "Helps when we think the same way," he said.

"OK, what does that buy us?" Bridger said.

"Time," Aislinn said seriously. "Let's not play this on the fly, Captain, if we don't have to."

 

"OK, people. We found the trap. How do we spring it?" Bridger had Ford, Kreig, Hitchcock, Ortiz, O'Neill, Lucas and MacMurdo in the wardroom. They were going over the data the WSKRS had given them over the last fifteen minutes.

"The Romeo's communication beacon's not out," MacMurdo noted. "How'd we miss that?"

"And if we had just gone in, by the time we figured that out, we would have been in deep trouble," Ortiz said. "See that?" He enhanced and enlarged a small square of the Romeo's rudder, and pointed to a box protruding off the tail of the Romeo. "That's most likely your jammer, Lieutenants."

"If we get any closer to the Romeo, we're going to lose OUR communications as well," O'Neill added. "The range of that thing is two thousand feet, tops. But we're close enough where's it wreaking havoc with some of our external systems. Too close, if you ask me ." He shook his head sadly. "Any signals to the mainland are going to a bit choppy, sir ."

"Buck up, boyo," MacMurdo said cheerfully. "It could be worse."

"How?" O'Neill snapped.

She pointed at the monitor. "We could be over there," she said, pointing to the Romeo.

"Good point," said Ford. "How do we keep from going over there?"

"And so what if there's a mini sub?" said Krieg. "That's not enough fire power to take out seaQuest."

"I'd guess they have surface ships right above the Romeo, waiting for us to blunder into their trap," said Hitchcock.

"Tis what they’ve been doing. But can surface ships find us from here?" asked MacMurdo.

"They know we're here," said Ortiz, "they just can't pinpoint us. They have a general idea. And we're too deep for active sonar to get anything from topside that's conclusive enough for us to use."

MacMurdo was chewing her lip. "If nobody minds, can we try something?" she asked. As they all nodded, she continued. "I think better out loud, so I'm going to start thinking out loud here. Pipe in whenever you feel like it." She took a deep breath. "First off, what's keeping us from springing the trap?"

"The fact the seaQuest's communications to the world get cut off when we get within two thousand feet of the Romeo," said O'Neill bitterly.

"And that there are maybe a couple dozen surface ships, ready to bomb the hell out of us while we're blind," Hitchcock added.

"I just got this boat built, MacMurdo," said Bridger. "I'd like to keep her for a while yet."

"Is that thing working on one frequency?"

"Nope," said Ortiz, "that's why it's jamming our signal."

"From what I figure," O'Neil said, "it's fluctuating everywhere from the EM spectrum all the way to ultrasound. I can't get a lock on anything long enough to try and unjam us."

"OK, it's messing us up. But not them?"

"They must have some kind of shielding against it," said Ford.

"Or, it only works underwater," said Kreig.

MacMurdo snapped her fingers. "Echolocation!"

"Huh?" O'Neill was puzzled for them all.

"The WSKRs won't work because of the jamming signal. They're electronic, and they emit their information on multiple bandwidths. Am I right?" she asked Ortiz. When he nodded, she went on. "Now, Darwin didn't have any problems finding the WSKRS. And he wasn't complaining about his head hurting or anything--" MacMurdo looked at Bridger. "Do dolphins even GET headaches?" she asked.

"Yes, they do. And I think you have a good point," he said. "Dolphins navigate using echolocation."

MacMurdo leaned forward. "A narrow band of concentrated sound."

"Yes."

"Single or multiple frequency bandlengths?"

"All the research says single," Bridger said. "But I don't get it--"

"I do," O'Neill said. "I've been going about this from the wrong direction. If that thing is a multiple wave frequency emitter, a burst of intense sound on a single frequency should short it out." He looked at her. "Close?"

"I owe you a drink," she said. "Question, what can we use to deliver a intense burst of sound?"

"How do we modify it to emit on a single frequency?" Ford asked.

"I'm more worried on HOW we have to get it there," O'Neill said. "That thing is small. All the equipment I could use to disable it is built into the Bridge. I rather not take seaQuest in that dead zone unless I was sure we can kill it. It's too big of a risk factor."

"So? Think portable," MacMurdo said.

"There's the sonic core sampling equipment, for taking rock samples," Kreig offered. "They use ultrasound to drive the sample chamber into the rock. Less parts to fix. And it's made to be used in deep water."

"Attach it to a launch," said Hitchcock.

"What about the Stinger?" Lucas piped in. "The sonic emitter to repel sharks is a single frequency emitter. We can modify it to be aimed to a specific point. We could be in and out in a matter of seconds."

O'Neill shook his head. "What I mean is," he said, "however we get it there, it's going to be cut off from seaQuest, because we're not going to be able to hear its communication." He looked around the table. "I don't know about anyone else, but with hostiles possibly over our heads, that makes me more than a little nervous."

"So we have three options," said MacMurdo.

"Send the Stinger," said Lucas.

"Send the Launch," said Hitchcock.

"Or just barrel in with seaQuest, and do it ourselves," said O'Neill.

MacMurdo looked at O'Neill. "What? Send somebody out there with a hammer and smash the thing?"

He shrugged. "It's effective."

"With that mini-sub out there?" she pointed out. "Frankly, I like the Stinger option. 'Hit it and quit it', me grandfather used to say."

He blushed. "Oh yeah."

"Sir, I volunteer to--" started Ford.

"Hold on a minute," said Bridger. "I'm not crazy about sending anyone out there, in a suit OR a 'fish', when we don't know if we can keep in contact with them."

"Send Darwin," said Lucas. "He already proven that the jammer doesn't affect him...and the Vocorder hasn't been affected by this signal yet, either.

"Good point," Bridger said. "But no BODY is going out in the ocean with that sub lurking around out there, and that's final." He waited or all of the officers to nod in agreement. "Could you tell how far that sub was from the Romeo?" he asked MacMurdo.

"It's not far," she said. "No further than ninety, a hundred feet at best. The waves in that signal were very close together."

Bridger looked at Lucas. "I want you with Krieg and MacMurdo. Get the sonic emitter on the Stinger so finetuned it can stick a hole through to China."

"Yes, sir!" he said eagerly.

"Sir, shouldn't I be on that team?' O'Neill said.

"I need you at the conn," Bridger said. "I'm going to need you to translate, and to try and break that jammer from the bridge, if you can."

"Aye, sir," he said, not bothering to hide his disappointment. _Linn and I are a damned good team,_ he complained in his head, but he knew the captain was right. He couldn't have BOTH of his communication experts working in the same place right now.

"Katie, get the HR Probe up and running," Bridger said to Hitchcock. "You and Ortiz find the limits of this 'dead zone'."

"Aye, sir," they said.

"And me, sir?" Ford asked.

"We're going to work on your logic skills, Jonathan," Bridger said. "Like not volunteering for something before you find out what it is. Let's go, kids."

 

The Bridge:

"I will not stand here and allow you to insult me in this manner, Captain Bridger!" General Guzmano was scowling angrily on the screen. "If I wanted to blow up the seaQuest, I assure you, I wouldn't resort to such a childish plot," he said. "I'd simply do it."

"Then explain why we can't get anyone from that Romeo sub to answer us," Bridger said. "General Guzmano, we came here because a distress signal and I'd like to be able to help whomever is on that sub!"

Guzmano muttered something in Portuguese.

Bridger turned to O'Neill, who was blushing. "What did he say?" Bridger said, impatiently.

"Uh," O'Neil stammered, blushing ever more, "I'd rather not say, sir."

Bridger started. "Why not?" he demanded.

"You can fire me," O'Neill said.

"That bad?"

O'Neill nodded. "Worse, sir."

Bridger turned back to Guzmano, and then looked at Ford. "Cut this idiot off, Commander, until he learns to mind his manners."

"Aye, sir!" Ford cut off the general. "Well that was productive," he said bitterly.

"Don't be discouraged, Jonathan," Bridger said. "I think Guzmano blundered. Did it sound to you like he wanted seaQuest here?"

"No," admitted Ford. "Why lay bait for us, if they didn't want us to come?"

"Maybe he wants to lull us into a false sense of security?" offered Ortiz.

"No way," Ford answered. "He's not that subtle. He just wouldn't have answered our hails."

"Wrong bait?" Hitchcock offered. They were all unconsciously blurting out their thoughts on the situation before them. Bridger wasn't stopping them, because as MacMurdo had pointed out, people think better out loud.

"Uh-uh," O'Neill was saying. "Right bait, wrong fish."

Ford looked at him. "What?" he said.

O'Neill blushed. "It's nothing, sir," he mumbled, blushing again. "Forget it."

"No, no," Bridger said. "I want to hear this. Go on, Tim," he said, putting a foot up on his chair.

"Well, when I was a kid, we used to go fishing on Lake Michigan. We kept trying to catch trout...but we kept catching porgies." O'Neill brushed his bangs off his forehead. "Turned out, even though trout liked angleworms, the porgies were faster. So we caught more of them. This might be the same thing. This whole thing is a set up to catch a sub, right?"

Everyone nodded.

"Well, they caught one--the WRONG one. Us."

Bridger nodded. "It makes sense. If they wanted to catch us so bad, they would have had all kinds of contingencies to keep us here, until they could take a shot at us. They don't want us here."

"So, what do we do, sir?" Ford asked.

Bridger sat in his chair. "We stay." At the puzzled looks, he said, "We are here to answer a distress signal. In international waters, I might add. Let's rescue them."

"Who, sir?" Hitchcock said.

"The sub the Amazonians really want. O'Neill, Ortiz, send out sensor sweeps. Active sonar, anything. I want a count of anything that's moving in the water towards this position."

"Aye, sir," they said.

"And get your girlfriend on the line, O'Neill."

"My girlfriend, sir?"

"MacMurdo. I want to let her know what's going on, so her team can work faster. We still have to knock out that jamming device."

"Oh. Right away, sir." O'Neill looked down at his console. "Not that she's really my girlfriend or anything," he muttered.

"Not yet, anyway," Bridger whispered to Ford. "What's the odds on the 'pool'?"

"Still two-to-one, sir," Ford whispers back.

"Put me down for twenty," he said.

Ford raised his eyebrows. "At fifty-to-one odds, sir?"

Bridger looked at O'Neill. "I've got a hunch."

Ford smiled. "We're going to make a killing sir," he said.

"WE?"

"I always take the longshot odds. Besides, Tim's always got a surprise or two under his bel---sleeve."

 

Launch bay 6  
The Stinger

Ben Kreig had never heard so much noise in his life. It wasn't the hammering, and building that was hurting his ears.

It was the music.

James Brown, Spin Doctors, the Clash, Sting, Ke$ha, Linkin Park, Metallica, Primus--all the loudest rock songs of the last fifty years were being blasted in the launch bay...and it wasn't even Lucas' doing.

"I need it to think," MacMurdo had said, and blasted the portable audio player to its max.

Granted, it was working. In the first tests, the sonic emitter was stronger than they had thought. A few changes in the relays had the signal hovering right below the upper threshold of the human audible range. The whine was hell on the ears, which is why Kreig was glad the music was so loud. "Hey, Mac," he yelled. "Why don't we take this thing up higher?" he asked.

"It'll interfere with Darwin's hearing," Lucas yelled back. "We can't do that if he's going to be our eyes and ears out there."

"Oh," he nodded. He was mainly here to get Lucas and MacMurdo whatever supplies they needed. Ben Kreig knew he was pretty much mechanically inept. So, he spent much of the time watching MacMurdo move.

 

She was a very pretty girl. Her smile could light up a room. Not that anyone had seen her smile much. Not that it mattered. Despite all the hardships O'Neill had put her through, Krieg was in the process of having her belongings brought over to the seaQuest at her next stop. It was a first. Bridger hadn’t offered a squid a spot on one of his commands this early on in a very long time and he could see why Bridger wanted her here. She was smart. Really smart.

But right now, she was playing havoc with his hormones. She looked adorable with her bottom lip stuck between her teeth, and her hat turned backwards on her head. Ben wondered what she would look like out of uniform--maybe a nice black dress that came just above her knees. 

"Whatta think, Mac?" Lucas asked her. It was something had figured to call her, when she couldn't stop calling him 'Luke'. It was sort of a game for them, and Lucas was glad that even though she was a good ten years older than him, she didn't treat him like a kid.

"It'll have to do, Lucas," she said. Her fingers hurt where she had dropped one of the relays on her knuckles. "We tweak this thing any more, the next time we turn it on, it'll shake seaQuest. The Capt’n might not take too kindly to that." She rubbed her fingers. "I wish I knew what was going on up there," she muttered.

"O'Neill to MacMurdo," they barely heard.

Ben leaned over to turn down the music, and smiled. "Your wish is my command," he said gallantly.

She shot him a dirty look. "MacMurdo here," she replied.

"The skipper figured you could use an update," he said.

She smiled. "I think he's a mind reader."

"The working theory up here is that seaQuest really isn't the target for that trap out there. Bridger just had General Guzmano on the line, and he was trying a little too hard to get rid of us. And then he called Bridger a really bad name."

She looked up at the ceiling. "What was it?" she asked in Portuguese.

"I missed some of it, but the general sense was 'fucking American jarhead'," he said, also in Portuguese. He got the feeling that she didn't want Lucas to understand what they were saying.

 

Kreig looked at Lucas. "What did they just say?" he asked.

"I dunno," Lucas said. "I don't speak whatever that is."

 

"You dinnae repeat THAT to the captain, did ye?!" she giggled in English.

"Not likely. Told him I didn't want to lose my job," he said. "We still have to disable that jammer. Bridger thinks that the Romeo's a decoy for another sub. He wants to try and contact THAT vessel, to warn them off."

"We're done, down here," she said. "I can't tweak the frequency any more with damaging the boat. And I mean seaQuest, not just the Stinger."

"That strong?" Tim sounded shocked.

"She could punch a hole through a foot o'solid steel, if I let it loose for a bit," she replied. "If the vibrations didn't shake the boat apart first. We're ready and willing, when ever you are."

 

The Bridge:

O'Neill turned to Bridger. "Sir," he said. "The Stinger Crew is ready with the emitter," he reported. "She says she could cut through steel with the intensity she's got going."

"Good," said Bridger. "Ford, Ortiz, O'Neill, let's get to the wardroom, and figure out what we're going to do."

 

Launch Bay 6:

"OK, Lucas," she said. "Who keeps the keys to this baby?"

"Captain Bridger does," he said. "I'll get them from him when I go out."

She snorted. "Think again, laddie. I'm going on this run."

"WHAT?" said Lucas and Kreig.

"The way we've got everything jerry-rigged, one wrong flipped switch is going to shake the Stinger, the seaQuest and every ship for a two mile radius down to sand," she said. "I built it, I shoot it."

"But--but--" Lucas sputtered.

"They pay me to take risks," she said.

"There's no way you can handle the Stinger," Krieg said.

She leveled a low look at Krieg. "I happened to do some training in a Tucker fish before I was assigned to seaQuest," she said. "The man himself told me that the controls for the Stinger were very similar." She threw back her shoulders. "It's a boat. It floats and contains a mechanism to create forward propulsion. I’m a sailor. I can pilot anything that floats, Krieg."

"Arrogant, isn't she?" Lucas said bitterly.

"It's called confidence, Lucas," Kreig replied.

"Buck up, boyo," she said. "I'll let ye take the next run...if I make it through this one.

 

The Wardroom:

Lucas was looking very sulky when Bridger, Ford, Ortiz and O'Neill walked in. Kreig and MacMurdo seemed to be discussing something very seriously, and Tim pushed down another wave of jealousy as he saw Ben reach over and touch her arm. She didn't react to the action, but her head turned when he walked in the room, and she gave him a brief, but glimmering smile. He felt better about that.

"What's with him?" Bridger asked, gesturing to Lucas.

Aislinn took a deep breath. "He's annoyed with me, sir."

"Why's that?"Ford chimed in.

She took another deep breath. "Because I told him I was taking the Stinger out to disable the jammer."

Four sets of eyes regarded the newly promoted lieutenant.

O'Neill's eyes nearly fell out of his head. "Have--you--lost--your--MIND?!" he nearly screamed.

The other five men in the room stared at him. Tim O'Neill was the one of nervous stammers and panic attacks...not full blown temper tantrums and certainly not outraged outbursts.

"I get paid to take these kinds of risks," she said calmly. "Lucas--no, offense, Luke--is only a boy. He doesn't have any business---"

"That's NOT what I meant," O'Neill said through clenched teeth.

She leaned on the table, her palms flat against the surface. "Then what DO ye mean, Mister O'Neill?" Her green eyes were gleaming dangerously behind her silver frames.

He imitated her pose, down to the danger zone look in his brown eyes behind his silver wire rims. "I mean, you are a communications officer, not a sub jockey. Let Hitchcock go. She helped BUILD the damned Stinger. She can pilot it."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "She doesn't know how to handle the emitter. I do. It's a one-man sub. And, quite frankly, I'm expendable. Low man on the totem pole. I go."

O'Neill slammed his hand against the table. "That is absolute BULLSH--!"

"MISTER O'NEILL!" Bridger said harshly.

"But, sir--"

"Sit down and shut up, Mr. O'Neill," Bridger hissed. When he didn't move immediately, Bridger added, "NOW, O'Neill."

Tim's eyes never left Aislinn's. "Aye, sir," he muttered.

"You, too, MacMurdo," Bridger said.

"But--"

"Do you want to be busted back down to 'Ensign'?" When she shook her head, he said, "Then plant it! That's an order!"

"Aye, sir." She threw herself in the seat behind her, her eyes ripping O'Neill to shreds, fighting the pout that wanted to land on her face.

Bridger sighed. "Being volatile isn't going to help the situation any, lady and gentlemen," he said. "MacMurdo's right. She tweaked the emitter...she's the only one that really knows what it has to do...she takes the Stinger."

Tim was not happy with the self-satisfied smirk that appeared on her face.

"Sorry, Lucas," Bridger said to the sulking teen.

"Man, no-one lets me do anything fun," he whined.

She turned to him. "Ye think sending meself into a hostile situation, knowing I'm going to be cut off from the rest of the world is going to be fun, ye daft boy?" she asked incredulously. "You need to get out more, Lucas."

Ford snickered, then stopped when Bridger shot him a look. "Don't encourage her, Ford," he said.

"Aye, sir."

"Let's get moving, people," Bridger said. "We've spent enough time with petty bickering," he added, looking pointedly at the two lieutenants sitting in the room. "You two--kiss and make up."

"What?!" O'Neill choked, his eyes wide.

Bridger shrugged. "It's an expression, O'Neill. You're her link to seaQuest. I don't want you two fighting."

Ford fell into line next to Bridger. "Well,sir?" he whispered.

Bridger smiled. "You're right, Jonathan...we're going to be very rich."

 

Tim was still in his seat. He was still furious, more at himself than at the situation. Aislinn was right, of course. If it were him, he'd want to see the whole thing through, phobia or no. He was terrified of losing her, terrified that something would happen before he got a chance to tell her what she meant to him.

"I'm waiting," she said. She was sitting in the seat across from him, her arms crossed against her chest, her green eyes emerald hard.

"Well--so am I," he retorted. He took a deep breath. "Why, Linnie?" he said. "Why do YOU have to go and play the hero?" he asked. "That's why there's people like Ford, and Hitchcock and--"

"Timothy, Timothy...I'm not made of glass, _eudail_ ," she said quietly. She got up and walked to where he was sitting. She knelt next to his chair. "If I were, Oliver's death would have shattered me."

He looked down at her. "I thought it did," he said, quizzically.

Oliver's death was something they talked about often. It was the defining moment of her life, having the captain of Ollie's boat standing on her front step, telling her that she was no longer Mrs. Aislinn MacMurdo-Hay because First Mate Ollie Hay had gone and gotten himself killed. She was in something close to shock for the first year...and all she could think about was how she was going to the sea. Going to sea to finish the work that Ollie had loved so much--discovery. Research. It was part of the reason she had gone back to school, with Ollie's blessings...he wanted his wife with him in the sea. Besides, she was a MacMurdo. She belonged to the sea to tell her grandfather tell the story. She refused to give up her and Ollie's dream with his death...he was now part of the sea forever. It was the least she could do to honor his memory by going there as well.

She missed Oliver. He had been her high school sweetheart. Captain of the rugby team, handsome, dashing. What he had seen in the skinny, bookworm with the mousy brown hair no-one knew, until the Christmas dance that year they first started going together, when she went wearing a forest green frock and turned the heads of everyone with the transformation. The bookworm was banished, and the resulting beauty floored everyone. Oliver claimed he always knew that she was beautiful. He told her so everyday. He begged her to marry him right after graduation. She made her mother so angry by saying yes. Her grandfather was furious. But Aislinn had always been stubborn and willful and headstrong. She wanted what she wanted and she wanted to be married, with a little house and bills and cleaning and a garden and all while getting her degree at the University of Edinburgh. And she got it.

Marriage changed her. She had always been a serious girl, but now she was depressed, and sullen. Married life wasn't what she thought it would be. Not with Ollie in the Merchant Marines, shipping out every six months. The fights were horrible. There were times that Aislinn thought that Ollie would honestly take a good swing at her and she was going to have to kill him after that. She grew thinner and thinner, her eyes permanently red from the tears. She graduated from university in three years, and on the day she graduated magna cum lauda, fourth in her class overall and the top in her department, her husband was in the North Atlantic testing a section of the ocean floor for mineral deposits.

It wasn't long after that she went to her mother's lawyer to look into divorce proceedings. It was the day after that Morgan Ross came to her with the news of Ollie's death. She blamed herself--for a very long time. If she had been a better wife, he wouldn't have shipped out so often. If she had been better at a lot of things, he would have stayed around. But she held on to the memories of the good times, when they talked about how she would join him someday. She pushed for that, and strove for it. And now, she was here.

She never expected to find a friend through the whole process. She was very aloof in the university. She didn't have many friends...even the professors she had known before were saddened and confused at her self-inflicted isolation. Only her cousin Carl managed to crack through her shell on occasion, and that was how she ended up on his doorstep that fateful Tuesday afternoon.

Tim was as different from Oliver as night and day. Ollie was blonde, stocky, and boisterous. Tim's darker hair and eyes, slender frame and serious demeanor made him look nearly frail compared to her late husband. They were both intelligent, in their own ways, very different ways. Tim was more like her--an overcomer, an outlier, completely different than their peers. He had fought so much to join the Navy, even more for submarine duty. His quick mind intrigued her and the more they spoke, the more they wrote, the more and more Aislinn found herself wishing that Tim was the one that had her brought her out of her shell so long ago. The transformation would have been no less dramatic, but very different. She had to come out of herself for Ollie or lose him. With Tim, she would have come out of herself more naturally, more because of the value of the journey itself. She had been thinking about the time he had kissed her, how wonderful it had been, how she had wanted it to go on even further than it did.

She realized that the sense of resentment she had been feeling was wrapped up in her attraction to Tim O'Neill. Usually, she was the kind of person who would talk herself out such infatuations. They were dangerous. But something in her told her that in THIS case, ignoring her feelings were not only a mistake, but deadly. Being brutally honest was one of her fundamental personality traits, and she decided it was high time for it to re-estabish itself.

 

She shook her head. "Nae," she whispered, taking his hand. "Just cracked me a bit."

Tim closed his eyes. Her hand was so small, compared to his, but it seemed to fit like it had been born there. He squeezed it gently. "Aislinn, I don't want you to get yourself killed."

"We all only live once, Tim," she said, bringing the back of his hand to rest against her cheek.

He turned his hand, so it cupped her cheek. He stroked her cheek softly with his thumb, and pulled her face up gently to make her look at him. He had never felt this bold about his feelings before. But the thought of losing his friend was overwhelming him. "Just come back, Aislinn. In one piece."

She smiled. "Is that an order, Lieutenant O'Neill, sir?" she asked.

Tim shook his head. "That wasn't 'Lieutenant O'Neill' asking," he whispered.

She pulled his hand from her face. She hesitated for a moment, then turned her head, and planted a single, lingering kiss in the very center of his palm. She closed his hand, and held it in hers. She looked into his eyes, holding him in her verdant gaze for long seconds.

"Just be here for me to come back to, Tim," she said. She stood up, and walked towards, then out, the door.

 

Tim sat in the empty wardroom for a minute or two. It was the closest he'd ever come to telling her how he felt about her, how he really felt. It was easier for Tim to express himself without seeing the person he was talking to. He had though her idea to write letters was sweet and very old fashioned. He loved it, and he wouldn't even cheat by typing out his responses. He hand wrote every letter, enjoying the release the scribbling on the increasingly rare and precious sheets of paper brought him. They managed the help each other through their doubts and fears thought the written words in their letters, and when she came aboard, he was thrilled to find that the woman in his letters was the same one that was on the boat. He felt guilty that he had almost lost that dear friendship, one that had seen him through so much. He was like a little kid at Christmas when he received a letter. He locked himself in his quarters, reading them over and over again, drawing strength from her gently sloping script.

He leaned back in the chair. He didn't want to admit it. He couldn't admit it. Not now. Not when there was work that had to be done. Not when she was depending on him to find a way to cover her back in that communications nightmare the bridge crew was calling the dead zone.

Ford stuck his head in the wardroom. "Tim?" he called quietly.

"Oh!" Tim sat up, ready to bolt. "Sir, sorry I--"

Ford waved him down. "It's Jonathan," he said, sitting down. "MacMurdo just headed down to the Stinger. Take a minute or two."

"Thanks, sir--Jonathan," Tim said, leaning back again.

"I was worried about you, buddy," Ford said. "I've never seen you get heated like that."

Tim grinned wryly. "Yeah, well, it's not every day you hear the girl of your drea--I mean, a close friend--"

Jonathan punched his arm. "Don't kid me, man," he said. "I see the way you look at her."

Tim snorted. "Who doesn't look at her that way?" he said. "She's drop dead gorgeous..."

"OK--rephrase. I see the way she looks at you." He laughed at Tim's expression. "You know, Kreig asked her out three times?"

Tim's heart sank.

"She turned him down--three times."

Tim smiled, despite himself.

"Every guy wants to sit in that chair of yours," Jonathan continued. "That smile--nobody gets it. But you. That accent? All yours. All the things that drive the other guys nuts about her, she only turns them on when you're in the room." Ford stood up, and clapped Tim on the shoulder. "Think about that for a while."

Tim looked up at his commander. "Hey, Jonathan?" he said. "Do--you really thinks she likes me? I mean--as--well...more?"

Ford smiled. "Considering the two of you were about to have the kind of fight two married people have right in front of the captain? Yeah...I think she likes you." He opened the door. "You comin', O'Neill?"

Tim nodded and pushed his lanky frame out of the chair. "Yes, sir."


	4. Crisis Management

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Linn establishes that she's a smart-aleck and cements her place on the crew

"You got everything?" Lucas asked. He was helping Aislinn finish her last minute checklist on the Stinger.

"Scuba gear, Vocorder, beacon, and this," she said holding up a disc player.

"What's that for?" Lucas asked.

"This," she said, producing a disc. She slipped it in the player and hit play. The opening chords of the Clash's 'Do I Stay or Do I go?' came out.

"Nice," he said.

"I need the music to help me concentrate," she admitted. "I hate enclosed spaces."

"So does O'Neill," Lucas said.

She frowned. "Yes, I know," she said. She pulled a sealed envelope out of the pocket of her uniform. "I need a favor, Luke," she said. She handed him what she was holding. "In case something happens--"

Lucas took the letter. "I'll give it to Tim," he said.

She smiled a sad little smile. "I--never mind."

"How come you haven't told him?' Lucas asked.

"Told him what?" she asked.

Lucas sighed. "Just because I'm seventeen, doesn't mean I have no clue about when somebody's in love with somebody else."

She gave him a hard stare. "Not now, Lucas," she said.

"That's what in the letter, isn't it?" he said shrewdly. "That's really a crappy thing to do, Mac."

"Lucas, ye don't understand," she pleaded weakly. "Just--give him the letter. If anything happens."

Lucas sighed. "Sure, Aislinn," he said. "I will."

She smiled. "Thanks, Lucas. You're the best. Now get the hell out of here, so I kin get rid of that damned jammer."

 

"The Stinger is out," said Ortiz. Bridger let go of the breath he had been holding. All eyes turned to O'Neill's conn. Until she hit the dead zone, he was the only contact she would have with seaQuest. After that, she and Darwin were on their own.

"Stinger to seaQuest," Tim heard in his headset. "How are you reading me?"

"Loud and clear, Linnie," he said. He knew that it wasn't exactly protocol to be using his own pet name for her in a 'battle' situation, but he was scared. For him, but more for her. But, she didn't need to hear his fear. She needed to hear a strong, confident voice before she went into that soundless void. He just shunted his fear in that place where all his other demons lived for the time being. _Deal with it later, Tim. Later._ "How you doin'?" he asked quietly.

"Scared out of me mind," she admitted. Her voice shook a little, and Tim knew it wasn't just because of the mission. She was even more claustrophobic than he was, and she was locked inside a one man sub, with several thousand feet of water over her head. "What on earth possessed me to volunteer to get in this tin can?"

He smiled. "Because the UEO pays you an obscene amount of money to scare yourself silly?" he offered.

She harumphed. "I'd be more impressed if they paid off the rest of me student loans," she said sourly. "Four thousand feet and closing," she said. "How am I?"

"Still clear. You getting any ratty readings, Commander?" he directed towards Hitchcock.

"Not a one, O'Neill," she said. "We're still clear."

"Tim," he heard on his headset.

"Yeah?"

"Remember--do ye remember the day we met?"

Tim swallowed. He was glad he didn't have this on the bridge speakers. He closed his eyes, reliving the sight of her hair whipping in the cold November wind, the collar of her sweater turned up to her ears, the smell of sweet rain and the salt air and the impossible green of her eyes. "Yeah, I remember." He noticed the static increasing in her transmission. He glanced over at Ortiz's con. She was at three thousand feet and closing fast.

"I never told ye, Tim" she said softly. He was having a hard time hearing her over the increasing static. She was at fifteen hundred feet until she reached the Romeo.

"Told me what?" He fought the urge to shout over the static--he wanted to scream her name.

"Told ye--" Her voice sizzled out, and Tim panicked.

"Aislinn? Aislinn! Dammit, Aislinn! Answer me!"

 

All he heard was harsh static. He looked up, his face impassive, his heart cold.

 

"She's in," was all he could say. He ripped the headset off, and turned on the bridge speakers, so they could all hear the 'sshhhzzrrr' of the dead zone. "Now, we wait."

 

She slid in the disc. The gentle voice of Kenny Loggins comforted her through the water. Her own instruments were still showing readings...she couldn't be sure how long that would last. She glanced to her left, and saw Darwin swimming happily beside her. She grinned. She was still picking up his clicks, and the Vocorder was still working.

"Dreamy swim in Darwin's pool," he said, and touched his nose to the glass. She knew he couldn't understand her, but she smiled at him. She caught sight of a large, grey object. He nodded at her, answering her unspoken question. That was it. The Romeo.

Then every external system in the Stinger went dead.

 

"What's taking so long?" Tim muttered. It had been at least fifteen minutes since Ailsinn had hit the dead zone. Not noise, no readings from the Stinger, nothing. Tim was trying hard to maintain his composure, but every pasing second made him more frantic. *What didn't she ever tell me?* his brain screamed at him. _Oh dear God in heaven, I'll do anything...anything at all. Anything you ask. Just bring her back. One piece, six pieces, I don't care, just bring her back. OK...I'd really prefer one whole, intact, perfectly operating piece, but I'd still do anything. Just bring her back to me. Bring her back so I---_  
 _ **Tim. Calm. Down.**_  
 _But she's out there and I don't know where, and ohmyGodInevertoldherI--_  
 _ **Say Rosary, Timothy**_ his other voice told him.  
 _WHAT?!_  
 _ **The Rosary. Hail Mary. Say it. It always calms you down...**_  
 _I can't start saying Hail Mary in the middle of the bridge!_  
 _ **So, say it in here. Just start saying it, Tim.**_  
 _Hail Mary, full of grace, thou are blessed above all women---_ The frantic thoughts began to dissipate. The prayer he could utter in at least seven languages was calming him. He kept repeating it in his mind, over and over and over. English, then French, then Swahili--

 

"Damn, damn, damn." She knew the Stinger was still working...it was still moving forward, it still responded to the controls. But she couldn't get one iota of information from the outside of the ship. She had no clue how close she was to the Romeo, no sensor readings, nothing. Lucky, the cockpit canopy of the Stinger was large and she hit the floodlight. The Romeo lit up. The spotlight was landing right on an oblong box on the tail of the Romeo. She was about seven hundred feet from the sub.

"Thank you, Tim," she whispered. She knew that he was back on the seaQuest, praying his little heart out right about now. Because she was practically blind, she was being cautious. Caution took time. It had been at least twenty minutes since she started out. She looked down at the small box connected to the sonic emitter. "Close in to three hundred feet," she remembered Lucas telling her. "Just punch a hole in the damn thing." She took another deep breath, and held it. She flipped the two red toggles, then her finger hovered over the yellow button. There was no way to gauge the intensity of the blast. It was full bore, or nothing. She let go of her breath. And pushed the button.

 

Bridger look around at the crew on the bridge. "Did you feel that?" he asked Ford.

Ford nodded. It was a slight shudder...if everyone hadn't have been so quiet, waiting for word of MacMurdo, he would have missed it. "Anything, Ortiz?" he asked the Sensor Chief.

"Nothing, sir," he said.

Ford walked over to O'Neill. He was tapping his fingers against the conn. "You OK?" he asked.

"No," O'Neill said. "It's been too long."

"She's probably just taking her time, Tim," Ford said.

"I've worked my way through the whole rosary, all the creeds and the Our Father," Tim said. "In English, French, and Serbian. I'm working on it in Japanese now."

Ford looked at him strangely. "I thought you didn't speak Japanese very well."

"I don't. But I can always use the practice."

 

The shaking was tremendous. Even though the new medium the blast was traveling was far heavier than the air it had been tested in, it was still amazingly powerful. The whine had been replaced with a fierce displacement of the water, which made for a hell of a bumpy ride. She could barely see what was happening before her, but she knew it was something big. She saw the lights on the display panel begin to unwave, and caught her position on the screen. "Yes," she whispered. "C'mon, ye blasted thing...c'mon."

 

"What was that?" Bridger said for a second time. He though he heard a faint whisper.

 

She was starting to get healthy readings from her external sensors, but all she heard was static on her headset.

Then she saw them. Two small subs, about double the length of the Stinger.

Headed straight for her.

Armed to the teeth. They were still far enough away not to be able to see her, but when they did...

"Sainted Beghorrah," she breathed.

 

"That, I heard!" Bridger shouted. "Lock on that signal, O'Neill!"

"I can't sir! There's still too much interference!"

"I don't want to hear excuses, Tim!"

All Tim heard was static. "Damn!" he said "Lost it!" He punched the conn, ignoring the pain in his hand.

 

Almost every single external sensor was up and running again, but she still couldn't get a line through to either the subs or to seaQuest. Then she looked at her co-ordniates display. "ShitshitshitshitSHIT!" She was exactly four miles into Amazonian Confederation territorial waters. She had heard stories about how territorial the Amazonians were. She was about to find out in a very up close and personal way. "C'mon, c'mon..." The Stinger rocked. She looked up to see debris floating in front of her . She hit the yellow button and toggled the two switches down.

"Big box go boom boom," she heard over the Vocorder.

"Outta here!" she exclaimed. That she heard Darwin’s proclamation was the confirmation she needed. She pulled the Stringer around and pulled the music disc out of her pocket. She slipped it into the player, hit play, and then hit the throttle. "Timmy, if ye ever had ye ears opened, this would be a good time."

 

Tim was switching channels like a maniac. The shuddering had stopped, and he was trying repeat trying to lock on the faint whisper that Bridger had heard, but he had missed. "C'mon, Linnie, c'mon," he pleaded under his breath. "Gimme a sign." His right hand hurt like hell...he thought he broke it when he punched the conn. _Later, Tim. Find MacMurdo, then take care of the hand._ He winced as he hit a button. Then he heard something. Faint, clear...

Music?

He threw the signal on the bridge speakers. Everyone heard the faint sound again. "What the hell is that?" Hitchcock said, straining.

Lucas and O'Neill looked at each other. They knew that they, of all people, should know what it was.

"Sir,"Ortiz said. "I've got a signal from WSRK 3!!" Ford and Bridger looked at the screen. "I've got two mini-subs--

This time, the music exploded onto the speakers, drowning out Ortiz.

"The Clash!" Lucas exclaimed. "It's Linn! She’s OK!"

"Welcome back, MacMurdo," he said. "Turn the music down."

The music lowered, but didn't disappear. "The lower frequency did get through first," she said.

Tim wanted to laugh. "How are you?"

"Not good. I ended up in Amazonian waters, Captain," she said.

"We've got two sub on your tail, Mac," Ortiz said.

"Aislinn," said Lucas, "floor it!"

Hitchcock piped in, "The Stinger can out outrun both those subs in its sleep!"

"And bring those subs to seaQuest?"

"Get back here MacMurdo," Bridger cut in. "We'll handle it--"

"Subs are firing! We've got live torps in the water!" Ortiz yelped. "Two hundred feet and closing!"

"C'mon, MacMurdo," O'Neill shouted. "You hit it already. Get out. Now."

Aislinn heard that, and her fear quickly got shunted down. _Get back to seaQuest? Aye, sir._ She shoved the throttle forward, and the Stinger fairly leapt forward, so much so she had to grab the stick with both hands.

"Both fish lost acquisition the second she hit 80, sir," Ortiz noted with relief.

"She's at one-oh-one, now, sir," Hitchcock said. "ETA to seaQuest, three minutes."

Tim breathed a sigh of painful relief.

"Sir, I've got an Amazonaian sub, dead ahead of the Stinger!"

_Mother pus bucket--_ "Aislinn!" Tim yelled over the line. His throat was so tight, he squeaked.

"Got it, Tim," she said tensely. She pulled the Stinger up hard, nearly vertical in the water, and banked hard to the left. She managed to avoid the sub altogether, but she started spiraling out of control.

"Bank starboard, Mac! Starboard!" Lucas yelled at her.

_Starboard? Has that daft boy lost his mind?_ She banked port, deeper into the spin. She came up behind the Amazonians's propeller. And then she powered the sonic emitter on. One quick jab of the button, and the sub wasn't going anywhere. Not with a busted prop. She hummed to herself as she turned the Stinger back towards the seaQuest, which she could see coming up quickly.

 

Tim leaned back in his seat, sweat drenching his face. He wiped his forehead. "OW!" he exclaimed, cradling his sore hand.

"Medbay, O'Neill," Bridger said.

"But, sir," he started.

"NOW, O'Neill."

 

Launch Bay 6:

Lucas was waiting by the bay doors as the Stinger came up. The cockpit canopy came up, and MacMurdo unfolded herself from the sub. "That," she said, "is the most uncomfortable ride I've ever had me whole life!" she exclaimed.

"Hey, nobody said you HAD to go," Lucas said smugly.

"MacMurdo," she heard Bridger's voice over the PAL in her pocket. She punched it on active. "Nice work," he said. "That Amazonian sub was carrying a pretty nasty bunch of political criminals, wanted in the Serb confederation."

"Really?" she said, pulling her hat of and taking her hair out of her ponytail. "Coming or going?"

"Going. Looks like General Guzmano was actually trying to trap it so that the Amazonian government could capture them then blackmail them into paying a large amount of money for the government to say they had died while trying to escape."

"The other Romeo?" she asked.

"You got it. That sub was going to be blown up, and the bodies produced those members who didn't cooperate." Bridger paused. "How'd you know to disable that sub?"

"I didn't," she admitted. "I was just ticked because they tried to ram me."

Bridger laughed. "Remind me never to make you mad, Lieutenant," he said. "Head down to Medbay. I want Dr. Westphalen to check you out before you hit the Bridge. I'm going to need you at Communications."

"Sir? Where's Ti--O'Neill?"

Bridger sounded amused. "Lucas hasn't told you yet?" he asked.

"Nae," she said. "Why does something tell me I'm not going to like this very much?"

 

Medbay:

"It's not that bad, Dr. Westphalen," Tim insisted, as she wrapped his hand with the fiberglass.

"No," she said in her calm British accented voice, "it's worse. Six to seven weeks in the cast, Mr. O'Neill."

"Weeks!?" he said, horrified.

"I'm just glad it wasn't another human being you hit, Tim," she said. "I'd hate to see the damage."

"Ha ha," he said sourly. His hand was broken in three places. The pain was going away a little, and the throbbing was tolerable, for now.

 

"Timothy Andrew," he heard. "What have ye gone and done to yourself NOW?"

 

He turned. Her face was sweaty and smudged a little. Her hair was fluffy and messy, like she'd been running her hands through it a few times. Her glasses were crooked. But she was still the most beautiful thing Tim O'Neill had ever seen. He smiled wanly, and held out his arms.

She practically ran into them, pulling him close to her with one hand, stroking his hair with the other. They were like that for a few minutes.

"Come on, Doc," Lucas had said to the startled Westphalen. "Let's go tell the captain that everything's fine."

 

"Wha' happened to ye hand?" she asked

"I punched the conn when I lost your signal the second time," he admitted sheepishly. "Six to seven weeks in the cast. Not to mention rehab."

"Och, ye poor dear," she giggled. Then she threw her arms around him again. "Tim," she whispered over and over again.

"I'm right here," he whispered back, stroking her hair with his good hand. "I'm not going anywhere."


	5. Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks after Chapter 4: Where cake is eaten, confessions are made and a beautiful friendship moved to the next level. And yes, song lyrics. Deal with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of an extensive series that moves through the entire three-season run of seaQuest and beyond. I thought long and hard about reposting this and I hope that you have enjoyed reading it. There will be more, including an in-depth article about who Aislinn MacMurdo is.

TWO WEEKS LATER

The mess hall:

Tim couldn't sleep. He tried everything...reading, studying, writing. He even pulled out the forty-four key keyboard he had managed to smuggle aboard, and fooled a little with some compositions he'd been working on. Nothing helped. It was either take a sleeping pill, which he didn't want to do, or get some warm milk. He opted for the milk. As he padded down to the mess hall in his slippers and his blue UEO issue robe belted around his green pajamas, he was glad he had never opted to go completely vegan, but stayed a lacto-ovo vegetarian. Otherwise, he'd have to have soy milk brought in. And besides the fact that it kept him up, not knocked him out, it tasted awful.

He got to the fridge and pulled out a container of milk, and then spied the chocolate cake. _I shouldn't...my teeth'll rot...I already brushed...oh, HELL, O'Neill, live a little!_ He cradled the container in the crook of his right arm, the one with the broken hand. He took the knife that was sitting next to the cake with his good hand and took a nice sized wedge out of it. He took his milk and his cake to one of the back tables, were it was darker. As he took a bite of the cake, he started to think about the last couple of weeks.

 

Captain Bridger had worked out a pretty good system for him and Aislinn to work their shifts around. He worked the morning shift, she worked the afternoon. It gave them the evening shift to themselves, although a lot of Aislinn's free time was taken up with her research. She and Lucas were developing a real bond, sort of a brother/sister relationship, along with their intense profession one. It was getting to the point where they were finishing each other’s sentences. And instead of driving a wedge between Lucas' other friends, it actually brought Tim and Lucas even closer together.

Commander Ford and Tim were talking more often now...usually about where and when Tim was finally going to face up to some pretty serious things...

"Have you ever even been in love before, Tim?" Jonathan asked him one day as they were watching Aislinn and Lucas play with Darwin.

"Six weeks ago, I would have said yes," Tim said. "Now-- hell, I don't know."

"You can't wait forever, buddy. She's not gonna wait."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said. "There's always 'Crash' Kreig to take her away from me."

Jonathan looked at Tim. "You have to take a chance, Tim. You're going to analyze your way out of the chance of a lifetime with one hell of a woman, if you don't."

 

Tim sat up with a start. Was that the cause of his sleepless night? Was it his subconscious forcing him to finally take the bull by the horns and tell her exactly how he felt about her? He had been kind of avoiding her, ever since the scene in the medbay. He kept wanting to say 'I love you" to her. He practiced saying it in his mirror. He had said it in his dreams a thousand times now. But could he actually say the words? He wrapped his mouth around another mouthful of cake.

And stopped in mid-chew.

 

Aislinn had slunk into the mess hall. 'Slunk', because she had a guilty look on her face. She headed towards the fridge and looked at it with hatred and undisguised longing. She mumbled something under her breath about 'extra sit ups', and carved herself a huge slice of cake. She grabbed the other container of milk, and moved towards a table.

She was most definitely NOT wearing the standard UEO issue blue robe. Her robe was an emerald green affair, shimmering in the half light of the room. It was unadorned, and it only reached her knees. Tim couldn't see the slightest hint of another hem. _What on earth can she wear to bed that would be shorter than that robe?_ he wondered, getting very hot at the idea of something shorter and more flimsy under that robe. He sighed as he fantasized for a second, taking another mouthful of cake.

She turned her head. "Who's there?" she asked shakily.

_Shit._ "It's just me, Linn," he called out.

"Oh, hi, Timmy," she said. "Where are you?" she said, squinting.

"Back here," he said, pushing a chair out with his foot. "Care to join me?"

She smiled as she worked her way to the back of the mess hall. "Best offer I've had all week," she said, plopping down next to him. "You couldn't sleep, either?"

"Not a wink," he said.

She was looking at him curiously. "Why, Timothy!" she exclaimed. "Yer quite handsome without your glasses on!" She could count the number of times she'd seen him without his glasses on one hand.

He blushed. "Yeah, well, thanks."

"Not that you're not handsome that rest of the time," she added quickly. "I can see your eyes better is all," she said.

"You're quite the looker without yours," he noted, touching her face gently. "You should get contacts."

She wrinkled her nose. "You first," she said, and they both laughed.

They sat there, eating cake and drinking milk quietly.

 

"I'm--sorry," Tim said.

"For?" Aislinn replied.

"Not being--around," he said.

She shrugged. "Ye've been busy," she drawled. "I understand." You're bored with me now that you see me every day and can't be bothered.

"So? That's no excuse," he said. "I've been a avoiding you for no good reason. I've been a prick, and I'm sorry," he said fiercely. "It's just--" He looked at her, and at the tears streaming from her green eyes. "C'mere," he said.

She threw herself in his arms. "Whatever I did, Tim, I'm sorry," she whispered.

His heart nearly shattered, and he pulled her closer. "It's not you, _eudail_ , it's me." _Take a chance, Tim,_ he heard Jonathan say in his head. "I gotta know something though."

"What?" she sniffed.

He smiled into her hair. "What it was you never told me?"

She furrowed her brow for a second. "I--wha are you--Oh, " she said, remembering. "It's nothing," she said blushing.

"Baloney," he said, pulling her out of his shoulder with his good hand. "I punched a conn and busted my hand because I thought I'd lost you without you telling me something. Now give."

Her eyes were focused on her feet. "I wanted you to remember--I mean--the first time--we met--I--"

"What about it?" he smiled.

"I--uh, well--that is--" She was fidgeting back and forth. "Do you remember what song was playing in the background, when you opened the door?"

Tim thought for a second. "Yeah," he said. "It was 'For the First Time'. Kenny Loggins."

"Do--do you remember the words to the chorus?" she whispered.

"One better," he said. "I've got it in my room."

They looked at each other, and grabbed the milk and cake.

 

Aislinn was sitting on his bed. Tim punched the song up, and his heart lurched.

 

_'Are those your eyes, is that your smile?_  
I've been lookin' at you forever, but I've never saw you before...  
Are these your hands, holdin' mine?  
Now, I wonder how, I could have been so blind?' 

He turned to Aislinn. Her eyes were greener than anything he'd ever seen. She was oh, so beautiful. He sat next to her, and took the plate out of her hands and held them to his heart. The words of this song was everything he wanted to say to her...everything that had kept him up night after night after night for nearly thirteen months.

_'For the first time, I am looking in your eyes,_  
For the first time, I'm seein' who you are.  
I can't believe how much I see, when you're lookin' back at me...  
Now I understand what love is, love is,  
For the first time.' 

Tim gently touched her hair. "I've been trying to find a way to tell you how I feel," he said. "Struggling with it, really. But here it was, right in front of me. The whole time." He let his hand linger down her cheek.

_'Can this be real, can this be true?_  
Am I the person I was this morning, and are you the same one too?  
It's all so strange, how can it be?  
All along this love was right in front of me?' 

Aislinn leaned her face into his hand. "You're not the only one who's been struggling, Tim," she said, tracing his bottom lip with her finger.

_'Such a long time ago, I had given up_  
On finding this emotion ever again.  
But you're here with me now,  
Yes, I found you somehow  
And I've never been so sure.' 

Tim took a deep breath as he listened to the words of the song, not realizing he was leaning forward as he did. Before he knew it, they were locked in the deepest, most passionate kiss either had experienced. Their entire world had shrunk down to this moment.

Tim pulled away first. "I have to say it," he whispered. "I'm gonna go crazy if I don't."

"But, Tim," she said breathlessly, "ye say it every time ye look at me."

He tackled her into the bed. His lips were everywhere. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you. I love you, I love you, IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou--"

"And for that, ye broke yer hand?"

He stopped kissing her.

"That's what I was going to tell ye, ye daft boy," she sighed "That I love you. That I've loved ye from—well for a long time, now. It's what I meant when I told ye that Oliver's death just cracked me, not shattered me. A crack can be healed...and sometimes the repair makes the whole thing better than it was before." She traced his jaw with her finger. "I didn't shatter when Oliver died. It hurt. Like nothing I'd ever known. But--the thought of losin' you, Tim--I would shatter. I would shatter, if I lost you like that. I love you so much."

Tim's eyes opened wide. "You love me?" he said dreamily. The most gorgeous woman he had ever known in his whole life was in love with him? "You love me?" he asked again, amazed. "WHY?"

She got up and hit the program button a few times, then play. The song came on again.

"It's all right there, Timothy," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him.

He almost started to cry then pulled himself together. "Man," he whispered, slipping the robe off her shoulder, "I am going to have to say a HELL of a lot of Hail Marys to atone for this one." He hesitated, then started trailing kisses down her bare shoulder.

She sighed and arched her back in delight.

He was amazed. HE did that. He made her feel that good. She WANTED him to make her feel that good. He slipped the robe off her other shoulder. "Granted," he said, "it'll be worth every single one."

She purred. "Good. I'd hate for you to have to waste the priest's time, _eudail_."

 

Tim was never late to breakfast. He was usually in the room before Lucas and Aislinn, reading and sipping coffee. But it was already zero-seven-forty-five, and no Tim. Lucas scratched his head.

"Hey, Lucas," Commander Ford said, sitting down. "Where's Tim?"

"No clue," the teen admitted. "It's not like Tim to be late for--" Lucas trailed off, his mouth wide open.

"Lucas? What is it?" Ford was concerned. "Lucas?" When Lucas couldn't answer him, Jonathan followed the boy's gaze to the front of the mess hall.

 

Walking in, arm in arm, were Tim O'Neill and Aislinn MacMurdo. She was laughing, and the fraction of a second that she laid her head on Tim's shoulder was in a manner that was not exactly all 'friendly'. Jonathan and Lucas couldn't make out what they were saying but before Tim moved them towards the breakfast line, he looked around as if he was checking if the coast was clear then gave Aislinn a long, lingering kiss that turned the head of everyone in the room—without it turning the heads of everyone in the room. At least the heads were not turning towards the couple. Most of them were in Lieutenant Ben Kreig's direction.

 

"Way--cool," Lucas said.

Jonathan laughed and tipped his hat at Ben. Then he pointed to his eyes, then his chest and held up his hand, rubbing his first two fingers together. _Show me the money, sucker._

Ben scowled.

"What was that all about?" Lucas asked.

"Ben owes me a LOT of money."

"Morning, Jonathan," Captain Bridger said over Ford.

Ford smiled. "Good, morning, sir," he said.

"I see our little investment paid off," he noted, as Tim walked Aislinn over to a nearby table, his arm wrapped around her waist. They were completely oblivious to the reaction they were causing. Or maybe they knew and didn't care.

"In more ways than one, sir," Ford said. He managed to catch Tim's gaze long enough to send him a thumbs up. "In more ways than one."

Tim's smile said it all.

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic was written in 1996 and originally published in the TedTales e-mail fanfiction list and hosted on the now-defunct The Sacred Archives of Ted. 16 years later, and I’ve started a massive re-editing project on the entire Aislinn MacMurdo Chronicles. If I knew then what I know now, I could have had this all reedited, self-published and sold for a million plus dollar book/movie deal, because that’s what fan fiction leads to these days, right? If you have read this before, I hope you have good memories re-reading it with the numerous edits made. If you are new to this, then welcome and I hope you enjoy. Yes, it borrows heavily from some plot points from the episode 'Stinger'. It was the first sQ story I'd written. As the series continues, there are many more original ideas, but also stories that are hung off of existing episodes to create the canon that is unique to the tale of Tim O'Neil and Aislinn MacMurdo.
> 
> The UEO vessel seaQuest, and her crew (Bridger, O'Neill, Ford, Westphalen, Hitchcock, Kreig, Ortiz, Wolenczak, Crocker and Darwin) all are the creations of Royce O'Bannon and Ambiln Productions. Aislinn MacMurdo is an original character, and she, though owned by no-one, is a creation of my own fertile imagination.


End file.
